[Martinus]

I'M IN COLLEGE!!
PEOPLE ARE STARING AT ME!!

...CAN'T STOP LAUGHING.

Next time you're going to post something this funny put a warning on it for mercy's sake.

[CP5670]

There was actually an incident a few years ago where a guy tried to rob a gas station. The guy pointed his finger at the clerk there and told him to give all of his money, or that he would shoot. (with the finger) When the clerk refused, the guy just ran away.:D

That guy needs to get some lessons regarding thievery.

[Eishtmo]

Actually, that crack came from Raising Arizona.  Oh, and this is a warning, the following may be funny.

I don't know how long the delay between "At Work" and this piece was, though I suspect it was a few months at least.  And, since it followed the events of the Other Date Which Will Live in Infamy, I had to do something.  So with rumors that Halloween, my favorite holiday, would be canceled in its wake, I decide to make some of my own fun.  After this, there are two more episodes and then the first episode of Road Trip.  Enjoy.

So There I Was. . .
Halloween

   So there I was, standing against the wall of my garage with a hick cop pointing his gun at my ever so delicate head.

   “Put the pitchfork down!” He shouted again.

   Don’t worry, this is normal for Halloween.

   Every year since I moved to New Herrigton I have set up the most extravagant Halloween thing I can afford, which isn’t very much.  Luckily, I got a job, and have racked up a few favors, and this year I went all out.  Halloween, for me, has basically been like Christmas.  Hell, I’d rather go home for Halloween than for Christmas, but after the last time, I’m banned from the neighborhood for that particular holiday.  So I try to replicate the fun I have at home amongst my neighbors, no matter how much they hate me for it.  This year I decided to go with a hell theme, and really knock their socks off.

   For starters, opened the newly installed garage door (the garage being the most complete portion of my house thanks to those damn union construction workers.  Breaks
every ten minutes my ass!)  and set up shop there.  Above the door, and between the open roof (damn union workers) I place a sign that said “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.”  I’m thinking about leaving it up for all time.  Inside, I set up various gruesome displays with decapitated people and such.  It’s a two car garage, so use your imagination.

   Along the walls were cut out images of fire were set up along the wall, and some really neat pots that burst with real flames.  Oh, and a big ass space heater to keep the place nice and warm.  In the center, surrounded by the horrors of hell, is my throne, made of dozens of those medical school skeletons (don’t ask how I got them).  On either side of the throne are my little devils, strippers who owed me at least one night.  Really, these girls are for the pre-teens of the neighborhood, and are bound to make the place popular for the guys in town.  I thought about charging, but that wouldn’t be fair to the little ones.

    Next to my throne is my big cauldron of candy, which shall serve me well throughout the night.  Of course, to ensure the hellishness of the candy, I serve the most evil candy of all time:  Pixisticks.  That’s right folks, pure sugar, the single most dangerous thing you can give a bunch of five year olds.  My evil has no bounds, which is why I dressed up as Satan himself this year (usually I go as Death, but I wanted a change this year).  This being me, however, means that all hell will literally break loose.

   Things started out fine.  There weren’t many kids out, for obvious reasons, but there were enough to make it worth the effort.  There were a lot of interesting costumes.  I saw one little girl dressed as Spongebob Squarepants.  The poor thing was basically in a store bought cardboard box painted to look like the character.  I saw a lot of ninjas, a few Scary Movie killers, and a flower child (the scariest costume of them all).  There was one kid in BDU’s (Battle Dress Uniforms, I can’t believe I remember that) and a broken leg (the kid had a broken leg) that simply couldn’t make it in, so I sent my devils out with the candy.  They made his day.

   Generally, the kids loved my set up.  It was horrific, but fun at the same time.  I looked positively dashing as the Prince of Darkness, with a pair of really big horns and my plastic pitchfork.  We all had a good time.  The only thorn in this mess were the parents, who didn’t appreciate a lot of what I had done (especially the strippers).  But they were few and far between, so it didn’t really matter.  Or it wouldn’t have mattered if the Johnsons from down the block hadn’t shown up.

   Okay, so it wasn’t totally their fault, I probably should have known better, but damn it, if it wasn’t for Mrs. Johnson shrill screams and overreaction, life would have been much easier.  Anyways, the Johnson’s two boys, twins, about 10 or 11, came into my chamber of horrors to get their candy while Mr. and Mrs. Johnson stayed outside, glaring at me.  I swear, if those sticks up their asses were any higher, birds could have nested in their mouths.  So Bobby, the elder by about 12 minutes, steps up and I hand him about a dozen pixisticks while Billy, the younger, takes a good look in my cauldron to see what’s all in there.  I usually put glow sticks in the bottom, so the whole pot kind of glows.

   “What’s that white powder?” he asks.

   I look in, and see one of the pixisticks has burst open, normal procedure for pixisticks.  I half wish they’d put them in steel tubes, but I digress.  So I look at the powder, which is reddish by the way, though that’s hard to tell with the glowing green, and tell him exactly what it is.  Sort of.

   “Oh, that’s just the Anthrax I put in there.”  Yes, I know it probably wasn’t the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had, but I used cocaine last year and heroin the year before, so I needed something.

   And that something triggered the loudest, shrillest scream in the history of screaming.  All of it from Mrs. Johnson.

   “ANTHRAX!!”

   Me, the kids, the strippers, the squirrels that live in my unfinished rafters (damn union workers) stop cold.  I think she broke some glass.  At the very least, her husband broke the four minute mile in a dash into the garage, grabbed both kids, and left the same way, candy spilling out into the cul-de-sac on which I live.

   “ANTHRAX!” That damn woman kept screaming.  Now the whole neighborhood is up in arms.  Parents grabbing their kids and leaving, usually at high speed, for who-knows-where.  I sure as hell don’t.  And so, by only eight o’clock, Halloween was over.

   So I’m standing in the garage door with my little devils, staring across the neighborhood.

   “So I guess Halloween is over,” one of them said.

   “Looks like,” I replied.  “Well, if you’ll help me get some of this cleaned up, you can head on home.”

   “Thank God, I’ve got a shift in an hour and I need my beauty sleep.”

   So we go back into the garage and begin cleaning it up.  There’s a lot, of course, mainly putting out my flaming pots so they don’t burn my incomplete house to the ground.  Now, in the middle of the cul-de-sac is a street lamp, a very bright street lamp.  Bright enough that with the flames out, you can see the shadows in the light.  So when I saw another large shadow, I figured there was at least one sane person left in the neighborhood.

   “Put the pitchfork down!”

   Ah, but this is where you came in.  Anyways, the shouter was a cop, a very new cop, with a very large gun.  Always a bad combination.  So I look at him with my standard ‘Are you a dumb**** or what’ look.  “It’s plastic.”  I protest.

   “Put the pitchfork down, or I’ll plug you!”

   Into what?  Well, aside from that, I learned that anyone who says ‘plug you’ and is holding a gun really, really wants to use it.  Dumb****.  I put my plastic, store bought pitchfork on the ground and raise my hands up.

   “Now down on the ground you dirty towelhead!”

   Towelhead?  I’ve been called many things in my time, but never towelhead.  What the hell is a towelhead anyway?  I reluctantly took up the position, on my knees, with my hands behind my head like the good little ex-con that I am sometimes mistaken for.  So do my devils, certainly not pleased as it looks like they’ll be late for work, and damn it, they have a college education to support!

   “Now I’ll be famous,” the hick cop says as he hand cuffs the lot of us.  “I caught those dirty A-rabs spreading Anthrax.”

   Ah, so that’s it.  A towelhead is a Muslim/Arab.  It all makes sense now.  The only problem is, I’m so white I’ve been mistaken for an albino and I’m agnostic (don’t know if there’s a God) or egoist (I am God).  Of course, this hick wouldn’t know that.  I want to make this clear now that not all the New Herrington cops are hicks, just this one.  How he got hired, I have no idea.

   “Are you that damn stupid?” I finally said.  “Do we look Arab to you?”

   “Shut up you damn towelhead!” He yelled, stomping over to me.  I’m really getting sick of the term towelhead by the way.  He stops in front of me and stares right in my face.  “Go on, you damn Mislum, say something.”  Great, he can’t even pronounce Muslim.  Oh joy!

   “Something,” I say with defiance.  Ah, civil disobedience, the greatest weapon of an anarchists war.

   And it got exactly the response I expected.  He slugged me in the gut and laughed.  Yeah, it hurt, but the guy was a natural born whimp, so it didn’t hurt that much.  And it put me at the perfect angle for a counter attack.  I head butted his crotch.

   Unfortunately, I forgot I was still wearing those horns.

   The real cops arrived soon after, the hick still in pain.  The ambulance that arrived for the anthrax victims instead took a moron with a horn in his crotch to the emergency room.  I was arrested for perpetuating an anthrax scare, which the rest of the cops said probably wouldn’t stick, and assaulting a police officer, which probably would.

   So now I’m in jail, typing this through the bars while the four strippers I hired to play devils are busy fighting off the come ons from the local drunks.  All in all, not a bad Halloween.  However, it was nothing like last Halloween, that was something else. Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time.

[LtNarol]

:lol::lol::lol::lol:

[CP5670]

:D:D:D:D:D I had to really restrain myself from laughing at that one... (I would have woken up everyone else here )

[Eishtmo]

There are at least two unwritten stories to this series.  The first would have been the fourth story (Election, involved an exploding convinience store) and one after At Work (unnamed, but lands the time for the previous story sometime last Feb or March).  The plots just didn't work, and was part of the reason I laid off until Halloween.  That's when I got the idea for this next one, and I decided to get even more outrageous.  By now, though, the first ideas for the Road Trip began to form, and some of the characters that will appear there are introduced.  So, with one more to go until Road Trip, I present:

So There I Was. . .
Giant, Green, Mutant Turkey

   So there I was, staring into the face of a carnivorous turkey looking at me as its Thanksgiving meal, and all I could think of was if this would increase my chances with Janice.  Okay, so my mind wasn’t on death, but its not like it was the first time I’ve ever faced it.

   For quite a few years now I’ve spent my Thanksgivings at the local homeless shelter, spreading the joy of a hot meal.  There are several reasons I do this, one, it fills the many community service hours I’ve been sentenced to.  Of course, since I only do this once a year, I haven’t been knocking them off very fast.  I’d like to see the bastards make me do more!  The second reason is that it reminds me how lucky I am to live in a tent in my back yard.  Most of these guys only have refrigerator boxes and coats, so it does my heart good to know I’m actually living a bit better than my fellow man.  It also gives me a chance to rip them off, or it did before I got my job.  Leftovers are good too.  And then there’s my co-workers.  Well, one of them anyways.

   There are three that are here every year.  The first is one of those “do no wrong” types I hated in high school.  Gary has an aura of smart and popular coming off him like steam off a hot dog on a cold winter day.  In fact, the man is just too damn nice.  Always asking if he can help someone, opening doors, helping those who just vomited up a nights worth of feasting, and letting me clean it up.  I’ve been doing this for a few years, and Gary has always been here, though I do know he’s going to college now, something to do with genetics.  Did I mention the bastard’s rich?  He is, and that burns me more than anything else, mainly because I can’t seem to steal his wallet.

   One of the two girls, sorry, women, who work there is the kind Gary wouldn’t give the time of day to in high school.  Sally just so happens to go to the same college as Gary, though if they know each other there, I don’t know.  I do know, she’s doing it on a very tight scholarship, and so she’s basically doing this to maintain it.  I can respect that, I suppose.  If I still needed money, I’d do the same thing, while mugging the homeless before they eat.  I always  said “Thanks” by the way, I’m not a completely evil bastard.

   And then there’s Janice, the real reason I keep coming back.  I’m sorry, but I have to say it this way, she’s hot in every sense of the word.  The word “babe” was created to describe this woman.  For years, I’ve watched her, waiting, hoping for a chance at a date at least.  Unfortunately, its likely not to be.  You see, she’s not only married, with a kid, but she’s also a Born-Again Christian.  This doesn’t make her completely off limits, but the odds of anything coming to pass is almost nil.  So I come back to dream the impossible dream, and rob the homeless.

   Not that I do any more, I must stress that, I’ve got a job now.  Anyways, the night was pretty normal.  Those with no money and no place to go line up for a mixed meal of canned cranberry sauce (the jelled kind, of course), Stove Top stuffing, a piece of bread, mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes and turkey.  I served the turkey, cutting each slice with the infamous electric knife that’s only ever brought out for Thanksgiving, or when I need to cut foam (ala Furniture Guys).  Dull, boring, and all that jazz.  When there was a lull, and there’s always a lull, I stared at Jancie’s chest.  Yes, I’m a pig and proud of it.

   As we finished cleaning up for the next shift (the regular, non-Thanksgiving shift, yes they really have those), Gary comes up with a serious look.

   “Quinn, Janice, can I talk to you?”

   “I didn’t do it.”  Natural reply.  Old habits die hard.

   “Do what?”

   “Does it matter, I didn’t do it.”

   “Whatever.  Anyways, I’d like your opinion on something.”

   “What is it Gary?”  Janice even has the voice of a babe.  She’s standing about a foot away, and it takes everything I have to not stare at her and keep my eyes on Gary, but damn it, I’m only human!

   “Come on, I’ll show you.”

   We follow Gary and Sally to the back room and into the basement.  Funny, before that date, I didn’t know there was a basement to this place.  Hell, I didn’t remember the door being there, just a blank wall.  It was like it was a secret or something.  Of course, it was, but I didn’t know that then.

   The place looked like something out of a cheesy mad scientist movie.  Bulbs flashing colors all over the place, buzzing, churning noises echoing through the halls, and “der switch” up on the wall.

   “I like what you’ve done with the place,” I said.  I was impressed.  Even when I went to college long ago, I never saw anything like this.

   “Thanks, now the thing we want to show you is in here.”

   “We?  How long have you two been working on this.”

   “Couple years,” Sally said.

   As she said that, Janice and I stepped into a large, dark room.  Of course, like any other mad scientist story, and you had to know this is one by now, the door is of course slammed.  Now it might surprise you to know that I’m a bit scared of the dark.  It’s a relic from when I was a kid and used a nightlight to scare the gremlins under my bed away.  Yeah, I was actually scared of that movie too.  I’m over it for the most part, but being locked in a dark room didn’t help ease it.

   “Let me out of here!”

   So I’m a chicken.  Sue me.  After a couple of seconds of pounding on the door, Janice grabbed my shirt and jerked hard.  Suddenly, a dozen fantasies crashed into me at once, and left just as quickly.  “Look!”

   Just when the cliché’s couldn’t get any worse, there were a pair of glowing green eyes.  Of course, at that moment, the lights came on and revealed a giant turkey, in a cage.

   “What do you think?”  Gary asked over an intercom.

   “I could do without the melodrama.”  I shouted back.

   “Sorry.  It was Sally’s idea.”

   “Was not!”

   “That is one big turkey,”  Janice interjected.

   And was it ever.  About five foot tall, with drum sticks that would make Big Bird jealous.  “You know, Thanksgiving is just about over.  Unless you’re planning on using this guy for next year.”

   “Actually, we were thinking Christmas.  But first, we want to test something.”

   That’s when an opening appeared on the far side of the cage and out came a cheap stun gun.  I’ve been shocked by enough of them to know quality, or lack there of, of stun guns.  It zapped the turkey, pissing it off.  I mean really pissing it off.  That’s when it rose up, and did an Incredible Hulk type deal.  The cage door swung open, and the beast charged at us in all its green glory.

   Janice grabbed on to me, I thought dirty thoughts, and the turkey began planning its next meal.  Aside from my sexual fantasies, I was a bit pissed that two people I thought were relatively harmless, turned out to be mad scientists.  Oh well, it wasn’t the first time people have tried to kill me with their homework, and likely won’t be the last.  Well, I wasn’t thinking that last part because I wasn’t sure I was going to survive this encounter.  The turkey bared down on me, and there was only one option I had open.

   I screamed like a five year old girl.

   Okay, it wasn’t the most manly thing to do, but what do you expect, I was about to be eaten by a giant, green, mutant turkey.  You try it sometime and tell me how’d you react.  Luckily for me, the turkey stopped cold at the scream.  When  I stopped, it shook its head and began charging.  I didn’t have to say anything to Janice, as she had already started screeching.  I joined in, and we forced the turkey back into its cage where it returned to normal, well, normal for it anyways.

   “Gary, Sally, get your asses down here now!”  Janice yelled in her mother voice, the most frightful thing in the known universe.

   The two college kids stood, their heads somewhere beneath their shoulders, while Janice and I scolded them for trying to kill us.  The turkey gobbled.

   “And I’ve never seen such disgraceful actions,” Janice yelled.

   “I have, but that doesn’t excuse any of this.”  Well its true.  “Why’d you do it?”

   The explanation was the standard “I hate my parents and want to kill them” excuse.  For both of them oddly enough.  I won’t go into details, but it seems both sets of parents were disappointed in some way or another with their kids.  You know, that kind of whiny **** they use on TV all the time.

   Janice was more or less stunned at the concept.  She simply couldn’t understand why children would want to kill their parents.  I understood all too well, but didn’t understand why they wanted to use a giant, green, mutant turkey.

   “If you really want to piss them off,” I said.  “Get married.”

   Last I saw them they were planning a wedding.  No invitations were to be sent to the parents, to drive home the point I suppose.  I walked Janice back to her car, still thinking impure thoughts.

   “That was a nice thing you did,” she said.

   “It happens sometimes.”

   “You know, if I wasn’t married, I might consider going out with you.”

   “You would?”  Say that with surprise.

   “Maybe not.”

   Ah, rejection.  I’m used to it by now.  It’s alright, there’s still a very small chance something might happen one day in the near future.  So I headed home, content with my fitful dreams of Janice, and a pet giant turkey.  Any one know what to feed one?

[LtNarol]

[Corsair]

thats great...a giant mutant turkey. Where do you get these ideas from?

[Kamikaze]

This just sucked up like an hour of my life

[CP5670]

rofl:D:D:D

[Gortef]

Pfft... BWAHAHAHAHAAA! Heehehheh

[Eishtmo]

I've gotten more replies here than in any of the other places I've been posting this, including my own forums.

Well, this is it, the last episode of the original "series," if you want to call it that.  I had decided to write Road Trip by now, and I needed a bridge.  This is that bridge.  You know, I never meant to write so many of these things, it just kind of happened.  No matter, I've had fun, and I assume that at least a few of you have had fun as well.  And so, let me present:

So There I Was. . .
The Wedding

   So there I was standing in the middle of a crowded, and now rapidly emptying, church, police sirens wailing, people screaming, and my mutant pet turkey chasing the bride and groom’s parents around the line of pews.

   “Why didn’t you tell me he was programmed to attack on sight!” I screamed at the groom.

   “I didn’t know they were coming, I swear!”  Poor Gary.  Despite everything his parents had said and done, they, and Sally’s parents, had still come to the wedding.  I suppose he forgot what parental love really is, unconditional, though some parents make their children believe it isn’t.

   I suppose I’m a bit to blame as well.  After all, it was my idea for the two of them to get married to get back at their parents that created the chaos that now enveloped this once peaceful piece of holy ground.  That and I had brought Gobblezilla, my pet mutant turkey.  Zilli, as I call him for short, had been created by the newlyweds-to-be to kill, maim, and eat their parents, but I thought the attack had to be coerced.  Oh well, life goes on.

   The fact that I was even invited to the wedding in the first place took me by shock.  Sometime back in December I got the invitation, with gold lettering on some fine looking paper, the hard kind you only get once or twice in your life, unless you get married a lot.   The last wedding I had been invited to was my sisters, at which I was personally responsible for at least five of the grooms twelve broken bones, the rest were a result of him falling down the stairs trying to get away from me.  And that was at the bachelor party before the wedding.  Originally, I felt bad for Cythina having her wedding in the hospital room.  Then I found out she married him to get a rather vast family fortune the idiot had, and I don’t feel so bad anymore.  She’s dating her lawyer now, and seems genuinely happy for the first time.

   But that was one hell of a bacholor party, with Jake’s beating being the icing on the cake.  Gary’s, on the other hand, was just plain dull, at least at first.  The man, despite years in college, didn’t know the first thing about parties, and his best man knew even less.  So while I sat on the bar, Gary and his real friends had their ‘party.’  It was a male wedding shower, if you can imagine such a thing.  Dull, uninspired, and filled with lots of gay cheering.  I watched all this through the glass of whatever **** was the special of the night.  After the tenth “Way to go man!” I had had enough.

   I pulled Gary to the side.  “This party sucks man.”

   “What do you mean?  I’m having a great time.”  So naive.  It’s almost a shame to shatter his view of the world.  Almost.

   “Listen, let me call a few of my friends over, and this party will rock like hell.”  Gary had tried to kill me once, so I respected him enough to ask before I called in the troops.  Not that his answer would matter.  Attempted homicide only goes so far.

   “Well, as long as they buy their own drinks, I’m on a budget here.”

   “No worries, they won’t even touch your wallet.”  Unless they tried to lift it, of course.  Not that any of these guys would pay for a drink, ever.  A few phone calls later, and things were set up.

   The first people to arrive were surveyors, tasked with finding the best place for the massive stereos and the strippers to stand.  Next came the strippers and the DJ, who quickly set up shop in the corner.  The bartender began to ask a few questions and then just disappeared.  He’d wake up sometime the next day with an awful headache in the park across the street.  Then the partiers came.  Then the police.

   Details are fuzzy about what happened.  I was drunk off my ass, of course, and Gary lost the naiveté about parties quickly.  He also lost his freedom for a few hours, as did anyone who didn’t get out before the raid, and the subsequent burning of the bar.  The place was ash by the time we were through, and I was in jail, again.  For Gary it was the first time, so it came as no surprise as he was clinging to me for help.  Poor kid.

   The wedding party managed to get out in time for the nuptials, thanks to a small bribe I managed to get together.  Within hours of waking up in pool of my own vomit, we were getting into our monkey suits.  I suppose it was then that I decided to take Zilli with us.  He had, after all, been the one who brought Gary and Sally together, and so I figured he was owed.  I managed to dig up an extra tux jacket and that strange shirt and tie replacement and dress the turkey as best I could.  He looked good, damn good.

   The church was packed, mostly with people I didn’t know.  The one exception was Janice, the hot chick who had been indirectly responsible for the strange turn of events that had transpired.  She, her husband Jules, and their kid, three year old Matt.  The kid was fascinated by Zilli, and spent most of the time running around the front of the church with him.  That turkey had certainly evolved from blood thirsty beast he was only a couple months earlier, I remembered thinking to myself.  Oh how wrong I was.

   That was when something caught my eye.  Jules, the every faithful, Born-Again Christian husband and father, had just turned a corner into a small anti-room of the church.  Leaving Janice to watch both turkey and son, I followed, quietly.  There are two things that give me some of my greatest pleasures in life.  One is pissing off Born-Agains.  Its easy to do, just say that their religion is crap, and they’ll be on you like a pack of wolves.  The other thing is watching them violate their own beliefs.  Hypocrisy at its best.   I’m sure you know where I’m going with this, so I won’t bother.  With a slight, persistent smile on my face, I returned to Janice.

   “Here, you might need this,” I said as I handed her a card.

   “What’s this?”

   “The number of the lawyer my sister is seeing.  You might need it later.”

   “What are you talking about?”  I probably should have answered her right then and there, but the limo with the bride had just pulled up and it was time to get the show on the road.

   “I’ll tell you later.”

   Zilli and I sat (as best a turkey can sit, of course) in the back row and watched the boring proceedings.  The only wedding type thing I had ever been to was when my parents renewed their vows many years ago.  I was eleven then, so its been quite a while.  And just as boring as this was.  Oh well, not like I was doing anything else that day.  Everything probably would have gone well the rest of the day, until they got to those famous words in the wedding speech thingy.

   “If there is anyone here who has any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

   “YOU SON OF A *****!”  That was Janice.  On the card it said Divorce Lawyer, because that’s who the guy is, and I guess it got her thinking.  The lipstick on Jules’ lapel didn’t help either.  I don’t know why she waited so long, but she did.  The next flash saw her handbag bouncing off her husband’s head and up into the crowd.

   The audience was stunned., and it only got worse.  About then, the main door burst open.

   “Wait!”  It was Gary and Sally’s parents.  Remember parental love?  It finally manifested itself.  Unfortunately, as I said, Gobblezilla went off on sight.  He lept over the rows in the main aisle, and turned into his Incredible Turkey self.  And the horror began.

   The parents took off, Zilli gave chase.  I screamed at Gary, Janice screamed at Jules, and everyone else just screamed because it seemed like the thing to do, which it was of course.  After a few minutes, the place had cleared out leaving flowers and debris scattered about.  The preacher stood there, his jaw hung low on his face, wondering just what the hell had happened.

   “Well, that was different,” he said, and I’d have to agree.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t over.

   About then, the parents of the lovely couple burst through a side door, followed closely by Gobblezilla, still under the influence of his programming.  The altar was smashed, pews overturned, and havoc generally spread throughout the place.  Something had to be done, and someone did it.  And no, it wasn’t me.  What?  I’m not crazy.

   It was Matt that did it.  He screeched.  Zilli, of course, calmed down.  Just enough for the animal control guys to leash him.  I almost feel sorry for those guys, hauling around a giant turkey by the neck with devices designed to haul around dogs is not my idea of fun.  With Zilli locked safely in a paddy wagon, the crowd returned to the church, much calmer than earlier, though still shaken.  Jules began his apologizing, and explaining.  Despite everything, I think Janice will forgive him, damn it all.

   The wedding finished like it was supposed to.  Gary and Sally’s parents made up with their children.  Well, a bit anyways.  There’s a lot of ground to cover with that group, which is why I’m not part of that crowd.  Zilli was returned to me when it was explained that he couldn’t have been the giant mutant turkey that tried to eat people.  And he had been the weapon, not the killer.  I didn’t bother to explain that the killers were the bride and groom.  I haven’t heard from Janice, though my sister did mention that her boyfriend had met with Janice for a bit.  I went home with a load of wedding cake, the reception cut short due to the shock of the turkey attack, and the fact that it was boring as hell.  Gary will learn one day what a party is, but after only one lesson, he didn’t learn much.  That cake is good though.  Wish I had some more.

[Corsair]

ROFL!
That was the best one yet! These are sooooo funny!

[LtNarol]

says it all

[Eishtmo]

And now the first episode of So There I Was. . . The Road Trip!

Oh, wait.  You see, this was a trap, a set up.  Bait if you will.  See, I'm not posting it here, you'll have to go to Warpstorm's City of Light Station to read it.  Yeah, you'll need to make two clicks, sorry, but I want more traffic through there, I am the mod for it after all.  And while you're there, why not read some of the other pieces there, comment on them, or maybe even add your own. . .

The next episode comes whenever I finish it.  You'll just have to wait.

[Rampage]

People with no life.  Can't blame 'em.

[an0n]

Is The Road Trip the mexican one with the drugs? I liked that one.

[Eishtmo]

God damn it all to Hell!

I must apologize.  Until only a few minutes ago, there was an system in place preventing anyone other than the members of Warpstorm from reading threads in City of Light.  This has been removed.  I'm terribly sorry for the inconvinece, and hope you're still intrested enough in the story to actually read the damn thing.