It looks like The Company has already replaced me. Despite my rebellion, traitorishness, and otherwise disgruntlement, it hurts to know they already replaced me. I'd like to feel missed!
But who did they get? A Taxi Driver! Gah! That is very insulting. Oh, well. I hope he enjoys it.....NOT!
I give him a week.
Terrible news!
About a week ago, I could benchpress 90 Lbs. That may not sound like a lot, but for a nerd it's a ton!
But sadly, I can no longer lift that much. Apparently being trapped in Primatech, and thus unable to exercise, I've become weak.
I can only lift 80 Lbs now. It's quite sad. I'm disappointed in myself. Years of hard work unraveled in a couple days. But no more!
Soon, I'll be stronger than this mouse:
Well, I'm happy to see my other self still alive. But I'm rather peeved he's eating waffles! I'm glad they were ruined. He shouldn't be enjoying tasty items at Burnt Toast Cafe while I'm struggling with Last Gladiator Standing 2.
I just completed my first challenge.
Read about it:
Gah! Toes! Hairy toes! Right in my waffles. That caveman jumped up on the table and got his disgusting toes in my glorious waffles! They're ruined!
For those of you who don't know, getting feet in your waffles is less than ideal. But it's even worse when they're caveman feet.
I sent Ted to go play on the Burnt Toast Diner computer and ordered some more waffles.
"But, what if I die?" Matt asked. He was still concerned about the plan to take out Primatech's tracking system.
"I'm just saying it's very dangerous. It was more for rhetorical effect than anything. One of us may not even die. It's just a ploy to get everyone worked up."
"Everyone?"
"Well, me, you and Ted."
"But I could die, right?"
"Well, maybe."
"I can't die! I'm going to be a father. My wife is pregnant. She's going to have a baby. The baby is going to be my kid. That will make me its dad. I have to be there for my kid."
"Well, maybe he'll die instead," I said, nodding toward Ted.
"But if he dies, he might blow up and kill us all."
"Hmm....guess we'll have to let you die then."
"But my wife is pregnant! I can't die. I'm about to be a father. I have a pregnant wife. The lady I married is pregnant. I impregnated my wife. She has a fetus inside her!"
"Calm down. If we're smart, we won't die."
"We're all going to die!" He screamed. Customers looked at us. I'm surprised we haven't been kicked out yet. First Ted jumps up on the table, and now Parkman is crying like a baby. "Stop crying like a baby!"
"I'm going to have a baby. It'll probably cry too if I'm not there! I have to live. I have to be a father!"
"I'm just saying it's risky. But we have to do it. We have to try. With yours and Ted's abilities and my ingenuity, the odds may be in our favor." I looked over at Ted. He was typing away like a radical wheat monkey. "Can you read his mind?"
"Yeah, no problem. But if I die, then I can't read minds or be a father, so remember that."
"Whatever, just tell me what he's thinking."
Matt focused hard on Ted, his eyes squinting. "He's thinking....ooh, ooh, aaaah, ooh."
"Gah! He's thinking in caveman!"
Ted started tearing his crocodile toes, I mean, chicken strips apart and viciously devouring them.
"So, what's the plan, Bennet?" Matt asked.
"Well, after these waffles, I'm getting some cherry pie. You should try some. It's delicious here."
"I mean about Linderman. You said whoever is left standing after taking out the tracking systems will go after him. Are you saying we might die?"
"No die!" Ted screamed and jumped up on the table. He waved his arms around grunting and hollering.
My delightful waffles were ruined, besmudged by his hairy toes!
"NooOOOocoOO!" I yelled.
"Oh, good," Matt said. "The way you said it, I thought you were implying at least one of us would die."
"I was referring to my waffles," I said, pushing Ted off the table. "One of us will likely die. Probably more than one of us."
"I'll have waffles! Oh, how I love waffles. It's been so long since I've had waffles." I said to the waitress.
Matt, Ted and I were all at the Burnt Toast Cafe, preparing our departure to New York. There we would take down The Company, there we would save the world. I just hope Ted doesn't do something stupid.
"Me want food!" Ted said.
"Calm down, sweety. What food would ya like?" the waitress asked.
"Food! Me want food!" Ted started glowing. He was angry.
"Um, I think we need a minute," I said, thinking quick on my feet.
"Alright." She said and walkled off.
"Ted, calm down," Matt said to him. "Just pick something off the menu."
"There no pictures! Ted want pictures!"
"Could we have a child menu?" I asked aloud. The waitress came by and dropped one off at our table.
"Ooh! Ooh! Me want that! Me want fried crocodile toes!"
"That's chicken strips," I said.
The waitress returned with my glorious plate of waffles. I was in Heaven! I bet the Other Me isn't eating waffles right now. He's probably sweating out having to do some crazy challenge on Last Gladiator Standing 2.
"Are the rest of you ready?"
Matt spoke up. "I'll just have waffles too. I can't read the menu, uh, I mean, they look so good!"
"Me want fried crocodile toes!" Ted screamed. Several customers turned to look.
"He'll have the chicken strips," I said.
I had my bags all packed, so to speak. All that I really had with me in my cell was my back-up pair of glasses. But I had them secure in their case and I was ready to go.
"So when am I heading to Hacknor?" I asked Candace.
"Oh, you're not going." She replied.
"I was flabbergasted. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. I was just regular gasted. "What do you mean? I made a deal with The Company! I compete in Last Gladiator Standing 2 and they don't revoke my pension."
"Guess they're revoking your pension then!" She said. Her mouth grew into a wide smile and she started to laugh. "So much for your yachting dreams!" She left.
I was confused. Why would Primatech cancel our agreement? What happened to their sense of integrity?
Then Thompson entered. "Bennet, ignore her. You're still competing in the competition."
"Oh, good! I was worried there for a second." I picked up my glasses case. "So when do I leave?"
"You already have."
"Whaaaa???"
"Have a look for yourself." Thompson flipped on the InterN.E.T. There I was. Mingling!
"But how is that possible?"
"Well, theoretically, it's not. I can't tell you the specifics, since it's classified. And you're no longer a level 5 paper salesman. But while you're winning the prize for The Company, we still need you here on Earth. We have unthinkable things to do still."
"Like what?"
"You'll see."
Well, great! Now they tell me. I already arrived on Planet Hacknor for Last Gladiator Standing 2, and now I get the strangest news.
Jon, whom I suspect to be an Intergalactic Gladiator, pulled me aside from all the malignant mingling going on at the landing pad. "There was some fine print in your contract, by the way, and I think I should tell you about it."
"The part about peanut brittle? I swear, I don't have any!" Not on me anyway, ha!
"No, it's not that."
"Is it about the talk show rounds?"
"No. It's a matter of physics. You see, while you're participating here, there's another you on Earth still sitting in Primatech."
"Whaaaa???"
"Space travel seems to induce time travel, and as a result, you're you from one time, and there's another you from another time on Earth."
"But, how is that possible?"
"Theoretically, it's not. These things just happen."
"Oh, alright then. Nevermind. For a minute there I was perplexed!"
"No need to be perplexed, HRG."
"Please, call me Mr. Bennet."
"I'd rather not. But here's the important thing. Your existence is dependent on Other HRG's existence. If he dies, then you would never have existed, and therefor, you'd be dead too."
"D'oh!"
"Don't worry, there's some good news."
"What's that?"
"You'll be able to see what Other You is up to from time to time."
"How?"
"He'll be writing in your blog occasionally."
"D'oh!"
"D'oh?"
"Yes! He's a horrible writer!"
Well, sort of. The Company forced me into joining Last Gladiator Standing 2.
So, I get to leave planet Earth for a while, which is cool. I've never been anywhere but Earth, and I travel a lot!
Anyway, check out my post on Last Gladiator Standing 2 for more information.
I hope you tune in and support me. If I don't win this, I think The Company might kill me!
Things were looking gloomy for my novel. There was no way I would be inspired to finish it. I had no ideas, no plans, no literary experience.
But luckily, I did have a professor up my sleeve. He also taught me that's called a metaphor! I never knew such a crazy, rhetorical world could result from putting words to paper. All this time, I thought paper was an excuse to kill tall, vibrant, tree-like trees.
Professor Xavier gave me some brilliant advice. He told me that Chapter 2 is always the hardest and that I should "Skip it and write Chapter 3".
Such advice could only come from a degree-yielding telepath.
And so I got to work on Chapter 3:
Fountains of the Abyss
Chapter Three
"Help!" Bethany screamed, as she dangled by her semi-see-through nightgown from a tall, vibrant, tree-like bush. The cold night air dampened her cries, but from inside his hotel room, Doug heard her yell through his open balcony door.
He dashed outside and immediately extended his hand, just as the nightgown ripped and she began to plummet. Her hand gripped his tightly and she swung into the plexiglass window of the room below. Her body bounced off the glass-plastic hybrid and using the momentum, Doug pulled her up onto his balcony.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said, "now."
"What happened?"
"It's your father. He took everything! He took all of my jewelry, even the pearls my grandmother left me, and then he pushed me off the balcony and left."
I stared at the blank Microsoft Word document in front of me. Chapter One was completed and behind me. And next was Chapter Two. And it was staring blankly into my eyes.
"What am I going to do?" I asked aloud.
I waited. Well, I didn't really wait. God didn't reply right away, so I assumed no matter how long I would have waited, he still would ignore me. I guess that's the problem with not believing.
I rose to my feet and started shouting. "CHAPTER 2, what are you???"
I lifted my arms up in the air and growled loudly. This was a technique from my old high school English class to solve writers' block. Or it could have been an old dodgeball technique for intimidating the enemy. Truth is, I didn't pay much attention in either class.
It wasn't working! Nothing was coming to me. I was feeling that I may be doomed to never finish my novel. And I got angry. So angry I continued growling!
Then I thought about my dream. I could hear the words of little cartoon Linderman.
I haven't gotten over my writer's block yet. So far my novel is off to a good start, but I just don't know where to go now. Chapter One is so good, I have to come up with something as good for Chapter Two. It may be impossible to outdo myself!
So, I decided to sleep on it. People always say when you get stuck on something, sleep on it. And I like sleeping. So, I took a nap and hoped to awake knowing where to take my novel.
But instead, I woke up in a cold sweat! I had a strange and somewhat horrific dream. I dreamt that I was a cartoon! And not just any cartoon, but a very poorly drawn one.
I was in a mysterious town that I was very unfamiliar with. But I had my Primatech Gun, so I was safe.
I made my way down the street and entered what I thought was my home. But inside was a family, an interracial family, if you can believe it.
I quickly slammed the door and took off running. I ran and ran and ran. I stopped to pee and ran some more. And I found a cave. Everyone knows that a cave is a good place to hide. And something made me think the interracial couple wanted to kill me. I wasn't sure if they were following me, but I hid in the cave anyway.
And that's when I saw...
"Ted!" I yelled. "How did you get free?"
"Me make good fire. Me roast paper people and have good supper. Now me make big boom!"
"NooOOOocoOOOoO!"
"Me only take one minute," he said and left the cave. I could hear horrific sounds, horrific, liquidy sounds trumpeting through the mountain air. Then, Ted came back in. "Ah, Ted feel much better."
"What's going on, Ted?"
"Me not smart. Me no can say. Me think you should go school. You learn good stuff! Have answers!"
And I was suddenly inside a classroom. A boring genetics professor talked forever about the ramifications of evolution. Or maybe it was a cooking class. To be honest, I don't know what he was talking about.
And then he turned to me. "Is it destiny that brought you here, Mr. Bennet?"
"Um...maybe?" I said.
"Who are we to say what is and what is not the work of destiny? Is it wrong to presume we know better than nature? Or are we merely evolved primates attempting to find substance and meaning in a life devoid of both?"
My brain throbbed in pain. I started to spin around in circles. He kept talking!
"Why is it that a cockroach can survive where humans cannot? Are they to be the superior species on Earth? Or is it our purpose to capture and train these foul insects to do our bidding?"
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I screamed and ran through the nearest door.
"Hey, dawg," the guy in the room said.
"Isaac! Are you stoned?"
"Naw, man," he said to me. "Well, maybe a little. But mostly not. Look at my painting, man."
"Wow, that's nice," I said, faking approval. I guess even Dream Me doesn't get art.
"Dude, we have to totally save the fat man!"
"Who?"
"The man in my painting. Look, he's dead! Save the fat man, save the world, yo!"
"Um..." I said, "I think it's too late. Look at the newspaper."
I miraculously pulled today's newspaper out of Isaac's ear and pointed to an article. Fat Man Torn In Half By Blond Psychopath, it said.
"What does City Hall approving a budget for midgets to replace parking meters have to do with my painting?" He asked.
"Not that article! Below it!"
"Oh, dude! We're too late! I'm hungry, can you get make me a pot pie?"
I found myself suddenly in a large kitchen. I looked around and saw an old man in an apron.
"Hello, Bennet," he said.
"Hi. I need a pot pie, pronto!"
"Patience! A Jedi must be patient. Be in the moment, Bennet. Don't think about the past or pot pies. Think about now!"
"That's good advice, Master," I replied.
"Now, do you see the apron?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"You know."
"No?"
"Kiss the cook."
"Um, no."
"You have to, it is your destiny!"
"NoooOOocoOO! That's impossible!"
"Just a little kiss."
"No!"
"On the cheek?"
"No!"
"Fine, I'll kiss you."
I screamed as he approached me. And at that moment I awoke. What did it all mean???
Well, I had a great start on my novel, Fountains of the Abyss. Chapter one is done! And I feel like partying. Too bad there's not much room here in my cell.
I was about to start Chapter 2, but the I realized....I have no idea where I'm going with this! I need help! I don't know what to write. Any ideas for where to go from here?
Time to get back to work on my masterpiece!
Fountains of the Abyss
It was a cold night. The wind blew across the dirty sand as a lonely tourist sipped away his troubles at the empty beach cantina.
A woman in a red velvet cloak took a seat beside him and ordered a drink. She glanced over at the tourist. She watched him take sip after sip, staring off beyond the bar.
Her drink came.
"What? You're not going to buy me a drink on this lovely night?" she said to the man.
He turned his head and found himself caught off guard by her beauty.
He didn't speak. He couldn't speak.
"I just hate drinking alone," she said. "My father used to drink alone. Pretty soon he was doing everything alone. I guess that's why mom left him. Sometimes I think it's hard to not be alone. Even when I'm with someone, there isn't a true connection. You know?"
The man starred calmly into her eyes. And then spoke slowly, "No matter how much time you spend with them, no matter how much information you share, you don't feel understood."
She turned away and looked down at her glass on the bar. "Yeah," she sighed. She lifted the glass and took a drink.
"Yeah," the man said, taking another sip. He held the glass in his hand at all times, though drank from it slowly. His hand refused to set it down, not even for refills. "My father," he started, "is a pirate."
She laughed. "A pirate?"
"Well, who knows what he is. Or where he is. Or if he's even alive. He was an accountant for years, all through my childhood. Then, about 10 years ago, he said he was fed up with it and left. He bought himself a yacht and sailed off into the ocean." He pointed with his glass out to the sea. "I've gotten two letters from him in the 10 years he's been at it. The last was three years ago."
"You're kidding right?"
"No, not at all."
"He just packed up and left one day?"
"Yeah," he replied. "He always said work wasn't fulfilling. For years he'd say that. And finally, he just left. At least with alcoholism, it's gradual. You can notice the problem. But there's no way to have an intervention for job dissatisfaction."
"There's vacations," she said. "I mean, isn't that why you're here? To get away from it all for a few weeks, just so when you return, you can last a little longer?"
"Yeah, I guess you're ri-" He was interrupted by a sudden explosion on the beach. The cold night sky lit up a bright orange.
They turned toward the ocean to see flaming debris scattered across the dirty sand. A large mast with torched sails fell onto the beach.
A small crowd approached. In the nearby hotels, lights were turning on in every floor.
"There's someone in the water!" a little girl screamed out as she pointed.
The bartender looked at the tourist, "I know you've been drinking a lot, but they might need your help, Doctor."
The lady looked at him. "Doctor?" she asked.
He set his drink down and extended a hand. "Dr. Doug Ellis," he said taking hold of her hand.
"Bethany Cates," she replied.
"Put her drink on my tab," he told the bartender. "See you around, Bethany." He ran off onto the beach.
The bartender leaned over the bar and said, "Look, if you're after his money, forget it. He doesn't have any, at least not the kind you're used to."
She stood up and glared back at the bartender. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. She turned sharply and ran down the beach.
A man was being helped out of the water.
"Back off! Back off!" he yelled. "I'm fine." He pushed away a few people and stomped up the beach.
Bethany found Doug. He was attending to another survivor lying on the beach. She knelt beside him. "Can I help?" she asked.
Doug looked up and said, "No. He's gone." He got to his feet and helped Bethany up.
"I said back off!" The man was still pushing away people coming to his aid.
Doug grabbed him by the shoulder, "I'm a doctor," he said, "just let me take a look at you."
"I already said I'm fine!" The man turned around. A smile grew slowly. His eyes widened as he grabbed the doctor's shoulders. "Doug, my boy!"
Well, Thompson lied. I'm not dead! So stop panicking. I appreciate the flowers that are sure to arrive in the mail for me. But they are unnecessary.
I am finally out of solitary confinement and back in my Primatech Anti-Power Containment Cell. And I even got a new laptop. Ted broke my old one. Luckily, I had my novel saved online! It's a good thing. I would hate to have had to start all over.
Speaking of my novel, I can finally get back to work on it. I had a lot of time to think about it in solitary.
Foutains of the Abyss
It was a cold night.
Fountains of the Abyss
It was a cold night.
Thompson here. I know you're all wondering about him.
I pass people in the hallway and they always ask, "How's Bennet doing?" or "When's Bennet getting out?"
Just the other day I ran into Rufus. "Hey, Tom," he said.
"It's Thompson!" I replied, pushing up against the wall by his neck. "Now what did you want?"
"Uh..." He squeezed out his windpipe, "I was just wondering about Mr. Bennet."
I don't see why everyone is so worked up over us capturing one of our own. I mean, we've killed our own in the past! They should be used to this.
But anyway...
I hate to tell you this, but....
..............
..........
.....
..
.
He died!
Well, I guess it's my turn to post. Candace is out with her "friend" and Ted is still crying under his bed. Bennet is still in solitary...maybe I'll let him out soon. I do let him out to check his email and such, but not often.
But since it is my turn to post, I think I should make it an epic one. A post that will change the face of the Earth as we know it, well as you know it. You see, I'm going to reveal ALL of the secrets of Primatech Paper Company!
Are you ready for this?
Well, let's see...I guess I should start from the beginning. Primatech was indeed founded in 1962, that's no secret there. It was founded by Bob Dole and Regis Philbin as a front for a secret organization devoted to creating a world of super potatoes!
Needless to say, the original vision was soon altered. Philbin and Dole were removed from power after a hostile takeover involving an army of flying monkeys and Nazi toothpick manufacturers.
From 1962 to 1968, Primatech enjoyed a drug-filled life of Hero-snatching and paper-making. But this was soon brought to an end!
On March 12th, 1969, the Catholic Pope criticized Primatech for its harmful affects on the environment. This was not due to making paper from trees, but rather due to a certain captive of ours. He had the ability to pollute.
After five years of harsh regulations imposed on us by Capitan Planet himself, two members of middle management left to form their own plumbing business. Though the business was unsuccessful, they did find popularity in fighting evil dragon usurpers and rescuing princesses.
In the 80s, I found myself on a quest. It was an epic quest that would forever change the fate of Primatech. I journeyed off in search of a green midget to teach me the ways of The Force. However, instead, I ran into an elephant who claimed to hear voices coming from a dust speck. After abruptly annihilating said dust speck, I was about to give up hope of ever finding my green midget.
But some dead guy that I probably knew once told me where I'd find him. I found him and it was a waste of time. But on the way back, I discovered a giant Q-Tip which I used to knock other people off of pillars. I soon became the Q-Tip master, and Primatech sold more paper than ever as my corporate sponsor and employer.
Now, Primatech secretly manufacturers toxic lip balm for export to third world countries, where lips are often dry and chapped.
And there you have it, everything you wanted to know about Primatech, in a nutshell!
Well, I finally got some time off! I left Ted crying under his cell bed after insulting him and blaming him for his wife's death. And now I'm thinking about a trip to the Burnt Toast Cafe!
I've been a few times and it seems like a cool place. But I'm thinking of calling up a friend of mine and going with her. She's totally awesome!
She and I have been best friends forever! We met as kids when we were both picking on the same nerd in 8th grade. She was teasing him and threw his glasses on the ground at the exact same time I showed up to give him a wedgie! It was so incredible. Like at that instant, I just knew, ya know?
That's her. She's very pretty, and smart too! Okay, that's a lie. She's actually really, really stupid. But with looks like that, who cares?
Her stupidity has been a problem for me at times. I'm not a genius, but like I know a lot of stuff and like knowing things. So it is annoying when she does something dumb. Normally, I love making fun of stupid people, calling them retards and such, but I can't pick on her, she's just too beautiful!
One time, I swear, I nearly killed her! We were at a gas station and I absolutely love Slim Jims! Like you have no idea! I think I enjoy the thought of turning innocent little farmland creatures into a dry meat snack.
"Hey, you want a Slim Jim?" I asked her, very excitedly.
"Uh, what's a Slim Jim?" she asked.
"Oh, my God! Are you kidding me? It's only the best beef jerky ever!"
"Is it meat?"
Gah! I wanted to ring her neck. But I smiled and just played it off.
And then there was this other time when she thought squirrels could fly! I found her dropping them from a roof and they were splattering on the parking lot below. I joined in on the fun, and we were having a great time. But when we ran out of squirrels she said, "I don't get it. None of them flew!"
"Why would they fly?" I asked.
"Duh! Flying squirrels!" she said.
I wanted to see if she could fly! But I resisted and explained to her that not all squirrels are flying squirrels, and even those merely glide. I was disappointed that our wonderful squirrel-boming was all just a retarded accident.
But despite all that, I still love being with her. We do so much together and I tell her everything! Well, almost everything. A girl is entitled to a few secrets.
Oh, but I guess I should mention that she's straight. I'm working on it though. She assumes I am because I pretend to have a huge crush on George Clooney when I'm around her. 
I take her to cheerleading practices all the time. I think it's only a matter of time before she gives in. I mean, who can resist those skirts?
At the last practice she seemed to be daydreaming about something. I could only imagine! Surely she's turned, or is at least close.
If all else fails, there's always my secret power!
Well, Bennet's laptop is broke. You probably noticed a missing post! Ted was going to post. But I walked in on him.
"What are you doing?"
"Me no do nothing," he said.
I had the feeling he was up to something. I morphified into a cavewoman.
"Me no want hurt Ted," I said. "Me only want see laptop."
Ted just stared with his mouth wide. He began to stutter some. "Me...me...me no can show you."
"But me want see!" I started jumping up and down. I knew this display of anger was also the cavewoman mating dance.
He handed me the laptop. He had a blog post in the works, something about the many uses of deer. I particularly found the deer antler hat appealing. It'd go well with my red flannel shirt and blue jeans.
But then I noticed a minimized window...hmm....
"What is this here?" I asked, breaking character.
"It nothing," he said.
"Well, we'll see about that," I moved the cursor down to the taskbar.
"Oog! You no cavewo-man! You evil paper girl!"
"Click!" I said with a smile as I morphified back into my good-looking, drive men and women wild, self.
"No click! No click!"
"Well, well, well..."
"Not mine. Glasses do it."
It was the Cavegirls Gone Wild website. With all the hair, it took me a while to realize they were naked. I do consider myself an expert on female beauty, and I have to say, these cavegirls are the most hideous things ever. If I were a cavewoman, I think I'd be straight.
"You're gonna be in big trouble when Thompson sees this!"
"NoooOOOocooOOO!" he hollered. He grabbed the laptop from me and threw it on the floor. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out a club and beat the bajeezers out of it!
"Great!" I said, "Now how are we going to keep up with Bennet's blog while he's in solitary confinement?"
"Me use pencil and paper!" Ted said. He ran over to his cellbed and came back holding a roll of toilet paper in one hand and a golf pencil in the other.
I slapped the pencil out of his hand, and then the TP. "Gah! You are an idiot. No wonder your wife died. It wasn't your radiation that killed her, it was your retardation!"
"GRRRRR!! You make Ted angry! Ted go boom on you!"
"Can it, Teddy Bear." I turned and walked out, locking the door behind me. I gave him a sweet, innocent smile through the little window.
When Ted small, me have pet bunny! Bunny fun! Me like.
Momma Ted say bunny no live long like Ted. She say bunny no be here forever. Me scared. Ted no want bunny go away. But me not know how stop bunny leaving.
Me get good plan! Me go find hammer and nail. Bunny stuck good to floor! He no leave now!
But Momma Ted get very mad. She beat Ted! Me cried!
Momma Ted get bunny off floor. She throw bunny away! Ted very angry. But no have good fire when me small. If me had good fire, me use fire on Momma Ted. Make Momma Ted bring bunny back!
But me no always like bunny! When Ted smaller than small, me scared of bunny. Bunny look evil. Make Ted pee pee in pants.
Momma Ted take picture! Show picture to everyone! She think it funny. Make her laugh. Ted no laugh. Ted not think it funny. Ted think it mean!
Me have picture. Me show you. But you no laugh! Ted no scared of bunny now. Me have good fire. Me make fire on bunny.
You laugh and me make fire on you!
Here is picture of bunny and Ted:
Hi. Me Ted. Me like good food and big boom. Me no like writing. But me find Glassess'ss's laptop but no find Glasses. Me write for him. But me write on Burnt Toast Diner.
Tomorrow me write more! Me hope Glasses no come back. Glasses be mad at Ted. He hurt Ted. Make Ted cry! Ted no can go boom here. Me no like paper people.
Me done writing now.
So, everyone's writing poetry on Burnt Toast Diner. I always hated poetry. But I loved picking on poets! They were always the most depressed losers ever.
The first time I came in contact with poems and their authors was in 5th grade. My teacher read us all a poem by some old guy and then wanted us to write our own.
Mine was good, but I don't remember it all. It was about the joy of nuking ants with a magnifying glass. I also remember mentioning how I'd put the ant ashes into people's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and force them to eat it during lunch.
But there was this one kid, he was a total dork. He was shy and hated to have to read his poem in front of everyone. Naturally, his poem was an allegory for the fear of public speaking. I know, you're thinking, "Wow, Candace, you're totally smart." Well, I am, but to be honest I had a kid explain that to me cuz I thought his poem sucked.
Anyway, before it was his turn, I was sitting behind him whispering in his ear. "Oh, Doug, you're so cute. I hope you don't screw up the poetry reading, cuz then none of the girls will ever like you." He wasn't really cute though, I lied!
I could see he was getting nervous. He was sweating like a crime-fighting geneticist!
"I hope nobody makes fun of you. That would really suck, huh?" I told him.
"Doug," the teacher called, "Will you read your poem please?"
He shook his head.
Everyone laughed.
He turned bright red.
"What's the matter Doug? Are you scared of reading?" I asked.
"He probably can't read!" some other girl said.
"Stop that, class!" the teacher interrupted. Everyone got quiet and Doug stood up slowly. He walked up to the front of class and started his poem.
"This is called 'The Front Yard'. Here it goes," he began.
Meanwhile, I snuck up to the front of the class. I ran up behind him and yanked down his pants. He had Power Ranger underoos! HAHAHAHAHA~!
Before he could cry, he took off running. Fortunately, he couldn't run very fast with his pants around his ankles. As he got to the door, I grabbed the yard stick and gave him a loud spank! He yelped and fell forward out the door.
The entire class was out of their seats at the door, staring out into the hallway. They were watching Doug crawl around with his pants down, laughing and insulting him.
The teacher was in a panic. She was yelling and screaming, trying to get us to settle down. But it was no use.
Then, I noticed the fish tank. I planned to grab the goldfish and drop it down his underwear, but before I could get it out of it's aquarium, the bell rang.
Poor Doug was ridiculed and trampled by the entire school. It was great! I never saw him again, but if I ever do, I don't know how I can top that.
I know you probably don't like me, but you know what? I don't care what you think! Like you're probably a total dork anyway. I should cut out your spleen and feed it to your grandmother.
But I won't.
See, Mr. Bennet is in solitary confinement. He was screaming about his blog the entire way.
"I have to write my stupid blog posts!" he said, "My readers blah blah blah!"
I told him that I'd take good care of his readers, so I guess posting is my responsibility.
Since I really don't know what all this blogging stuff is about, I did a little research. The blogs I saw were horrible! What losers! Who do they think cares about their trip to Wal-Mart? Great, you're poor and a hick, big freakin' deal!
But I have to like write about something, so I guess I'll tell you about my trip to the coolest club ever!! I know none of you go clubbing because you're a bunch of losers, but whatever.
The place was called OPM. (Oh? You noticed that sounds like opium? Great! You're a freakin' genius!) They're very gay-friendly, so I knew I'd be able to find me a good-looking chick. The first two chicks I started dancing up turned out to be gay guys in drag. Oh, well, it happens!
But then I found her! The one....for that moment at least. I danced her up nice and she totally started dancing all provocatively with me. After the song, I asked her if she wanted to go sit down for a while.
She said, "Sure" and we were on our way to a booth!
"So, what are you into?" I asked.
"I like throwing poisonous snakes at the homeless," she replied.
"Oh, my god! That sounds like a lot of fun. I've only thrown porcupines at them."
"You should definitely try it sometime."
And I was like "Okay!" Things were going good until...
"Hey, babe," this guy with a purple mohawk and spiked dog collar said to her.
I wasn't heartbroken or anything, cuz I'm not like that. I don't fall in love, I don't care for people and I don't let things get to me. But I do enjoy a good revenge!
So, I got up and let him sit with his 'babe'. "You want some drinks? My treat." I told them.
Well, long story short, I left as they started to become unconscious from what I gave them. I was kinda upset that I wouldn't get to see what happened to them, but it was getting late and I had important Primatech paperwork to do.
But I can just imagine what that crowd did to those poor doofuses!
Well, I sat down to start on my novel. I typed the first sentence:
Foutains of the Abyss
It was a cold night.
Wow, these poems on Burnt Toast Diner are great! I really loved Isaac's. Of course, mine is the best.
Why would Isaac and mine be so good? Well, we're both artists! I know, you're thinking, But you're just a paper salesman! Well, I think I've been fired. They haven't said, nor have I received severance pay. But even so, I'd probably quit anyway.
So, Isaac and I are both artists. Sure, he is a painter, not a literary artist. But art is a silly thing. You either have it, or you don't. And when you have it, like I do, you can do so much with it. You may choose to devote yourself to one medium, such as Isaac has done. Or, like myself and Leonardo DaVinci, you may wish to be a Renaissance Man. I think that was DaVinci...oh, not him. DeVito! Like myself and Danny DeVito, you may wish to be a Renaissance Man.
It is unfortunate to for mankind, really, that I am locked in this cell. If I were free...well who knows what great things I'd be doing. Perhaps I'd repaint the Sistine Chapel or something grand like that.
But instead I'm back at my old paper place. It's rather depressing. But the artist in me thrives on depression, or any extreme emotional state.
I'm starting to think they'll never let me out of here. So, perhaps I should start on a long term project to express my artistic side. Sure, the poem was fun. But it was barely a page long. I have nothing but time here. It's like being in prison without the anal unpleasantries.
So, I think I'll do it! I'll start work on my novel. How hard can it be? With my natural, raw talent and literary geniusness, it should be a piece of cake! I just need some characters and a plot, then I'm sure it'd just write itself.
Hmm....let me think...
Well, it feels like it's been weeks and I'm still stuck here in this Primatech Anti-Power Containment Cell. I don't know why they put me in an Anti-Power cell, I don't have a power!
I guess some people will speculate the most ridiculous stuff! Yeah, like I'm going to have a power. I'm the adoptive father of a power girl. You don't see my other kid, what's his name, having a power, do you? If I had a power, he'd have one too!
Yeah, you can say I'm growing tired of the crazy claims. When I told my wife about it, she asked, "So what's your power?"
"I don't have one," I replied.
"I bet it's flying! You can fly, huh?"
"No. I can't fly."
"Super speed?"
"Do I look fast to you?"
"X-Ray vision?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
"No! I don't have a power."
"Well, maybe you do, but it's just unnoticeable. Like maybe you have the power of good breath? You know how you never seem to have morning breath."
"No, I just have a strict hygiene regiment."
It's been annoying working with evolved people. Sure, sometimes I'd like to have a power. It would make things easier for me. But that's not how it works. I was the human half of my Primatech team.
Even after we caught Eden and convinced her to work with us, she suspected I had a power.
"Okay, so tell me..." she said, "what can you do?"
"Huh?"
"Come on! That Haitian has mental manipulation, I have persuasion. You've showed me lists of other people and powers. What's yours?"
"I don't have one."
"You don't have one?!?! You're like the flippin' boss of Primatech. Why don't you have one?"
"Technically, I'm like middle-management. Well, maybe upper-middle management. Lower-upper-middle management."
"I think you have a power."
"I don't."
"You do have a power."
"I do have a power."
"You have the power to buy me diamond earrings."
"I have the power to buy you diamond earrings."
She really liked them too. Sure, I had to use my son's college fund to pay for it, but big deal. He's not getting into college anyway. He's a moron. Well, I think he is. Honestly, I don't know what his grades are like. But I've Haitianed him a few times, so he's on the path toward moronism, not to be confused with Mormonism. That doesn't require a Haitian, just any false prophet will do.
By the way, check out my poem at the Burnt Toast Diner. I had a lot of free time on my hands lately, so I thought, what the heck, I might as well write some poetry. I thought it turned out nicely. Be sure to vote for me when it's all over.
Well, we passed a lot of time and I'm still trapped! Hana should have taken down the company and rescued me be now. What's taking her?
Anyway, here are the winners from the Photo Caption Contest:
