Tuesday, February 17, 2004

NOT MY VIRGINS (A PRECISION GUIDED HUMOR ASSIGNMENT) "-ake that, you filthy infidel American pig dogs!", cried Abdul Al'splosion, finishing the sentence he had begun before setting off his Kufr-Killr Bombr Belt (TM). He paused, examining the barren, blackened, sulphurous landscape. "Where the hell am I?" he asked himself, as he tucked the dangly remains of his intestines into his now-combustion-stained Sans-A-Belt slacks. "Funny you should ask it that way," said a voice. As Abdul turned to look, a short, red, goatee-faced man with horns atop his head the color of hillbilly teeth pulled up in a small motorized vehicle. The words "EvilMobile" were painted on both sides in neatly flowing Coca-Cola-esque script. It looked suspiciously like a golf cart, with the exception of a heavily modified engine. "Hey," asked Abdul, "that thing got a Hemi?" "By technical specifications, yes. But it's actually fueled by the agony of tormented souls instead of gasoline." The strange man exited his cart, and cloven-hoofedly trotted up to the confused ex-Islamofascist. His leering face leaned in close to Abdul's, invading his personal space. "Hi," he said, his breath redolent of Limburger ravioli. "I'm Satan." Abdul gazed at the legendary hell spawn, who, at 3'6", towered menacingly over nothing. "Somehow I always thought you'd be..." Satan's face blazed with an insane rage rarely seen outside of a Howard Dean campaign speech. "YES! TALLER! I KNOW!" he shrieked. Calming slightly, he continued, "Do you think this is easy for me? Ya know, when I used to be an Angel of Light, I was SEVEN FREAKIN' FEET TALL! I was the star of Heaven's basketball team! I could out-dunk that punk-ass Daddy's-boy Jesus six ways to Sunday! But after The Fall, well... let's just say that gravity was a bitch and it was a hard landing." "But," Satan continued, "at least I'm not the one who mistook dynamite for a cummerbund." His smug visage beamed with the all bitter joy of Maureen Dowd typing the word "AWOL". "But... but... I don't understand!" Abdul protested, nervously toying with his dangling left eyeball, "This is supposed to be Paradise! There were supposed to be 72 nubile virgins eager to satisfy my every whim!" "HA! HA! HA!" Satan's laughter boomed pipsqueakily, "I can't BELIEVE how gullible you are! Did you actually think that the reward for the bloody murder of innocents was going to be a bevy of pre-stardom Britneys?" "But the Koran said..." "That part of the Koran was written by the same people who wrote those "Add 3 to 5 inches guaranteed" spam e-mails. I suppose you responded to THOSE, too?" "I... YOU SHUT UP! Do not mock my AAA Duracell of love!" screamed Abdul defiantly, cowering like a Frenchman and wetting himself with fear and embarrassment. "Heh. Don't worry about it Splodey. Can I call you Splodey? Look, Splodey, I get a lot of you teeny-weenied sand-monkeys down here. For some reason, you all think that a big boom will make up for your tiny toothpick. I can't imagine how you figure you can satisfy 72 love-hungry sex-wenches when you vaporize even the itty-bitty hump-stump Allah saw fit to grace you with in the first place. But that's not my concern." Satan rubbed his scabby, taloned hands together with the eagerness of Michael Moore contemplating a hog trough full of Twinkies. "My concern is... torture." Abdul gulped and darkened his slacks to the cuffs. "Torture?" he squeaked? "Yes, torture!" Satan squeaked back in a mocking, high-pitched, girly voice, which was indistinguishable from his normal one. "What... what are you going to do to me?" asked Abdul miserably, as "French surrender-biscuits" slid down the back of his pants and piled up by his heels. "Well," said the diminutive Prince of Darkness, "ya got your choice. Either an eternity of pineapple enemas..." "EEP!" said Abdul, his chute clenching in anticipated torture and shutting off the biscuit flow. "OR..." "or?" "Or... you can return to Earth and live out the remainder of your natural life." finished Satan, an odd little used-car-salesman's smirk gracing his lips. "There must be some sort of catch," said Abdul as he grabbed his left eye so that he could point it at the vertically-challenged imp to look at him suspiciously. "You're going to send me back all torn apart like I am now, aren't you?" Satan put on his best "Clinton at a deposition" face and acted hurt. "How could you even suggest such a thing?" he pouted, biting at his lower lip. "I've been nothing but honest with you since you got here." Crocodile-shaped tears trickled down his face. "BULLSHIT! You're the FATHER of lies!" Satan shrugged, "The results of that paternity suit were inconclusive, at best." Manually eyeballing Satan warily, Abdul asked, "So... I really get to go back? No weird little Twilight Zone twist?" The Underworld Overlord's undersized face relaxed into a broader, insurance-salesman-style grin. "Well, ok. I have to admit that there is one small catch." "HA!" shouted Abdul with the overconfidence of Al Gore counting the popular vote, "I knew it! What evil trick do you have in store for me?" Satan's cheeks puffed out briefly and collapsed back as he stifled a guffaw of triumphant laughter - hook, line... - "you'll go back as a bunny rabbit". "Hmmm..." mused Abdul, pointing his dangly left orb upward to contemplate the possibilities, "sunshine, green grass, lots of mating... Ok. Bunny rabbit it is." "Sinker." muttered Satan, smiling inwardly. "What was that?" "Oh, nothing," said the unimposingly-proportioned antithesis of goodness, "Just wishing you all the best." He waved cheerily, and thusly dispensed Abdul to his new fate. "MUAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled the puny Beast of Revelations, as he jumped into the EvilMoblie and turned the key. [click] "AWWWWW CRAP! I left the headlights on!" ...Meanwhile, on the set of Steve Irwin's Crocodile Hunter show... "...And what do crocs love to eat the best?" hollered an ebullient Irwin to the bus-load of third-graders who were taking the behind-the-scenes tour. "Squirming fuzzy bunnies!" returned the bloodthirsty youthful chorus. "They sure do! Now my lovely wife, Terri, will 'and me one of those tasty morsels... Thanks, luv... Crikey! This one's a frisky little bugger! Look at 'im wiggle! It's almost like 'e knows what's comin'! 'E's makin' a lot of noise for a rabbit! Almost sounds like 'e's saying "pineapple" over 'n over... Well, enough 'rigglin' & squigglin' - into the pond with ya, snack chip!" After an exaggerated wind-up, Irwin arced the furry dumpling into the containment area. "Crikey!" shouted Irwin admiringly, "that 'ungry croc nabbed 'em on the first bounce! What a catch!" "Now kiddies," Irwin explained, "although this may seem 'arsh and cruel, it's just nature's way of keepin' down the population on those pesky, floppy-eared buggers. Blokes like me what keeps crocs fed for a livin' even got a little sayin' to help us keep our perspective:" SIC SEMPER T' RABBITS! posted by Harvey at 7:17:07 PM  permalink  comment [] trackback []  HOME

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