Monday, June 12, 2006
The Fortress of Solitude
Ok, so this is how I think it went down…
(you kind of have to read it like an old Flash Gordon or Doc Savage episode)
Secure in her Fortress of Solitude Mother Nature is monitoring the world as images flash to her on a wall of video screens. In her left hand is a gin and tonic, her right fist hovers over a large red button labeled “smite”. Taking a hit of her drink ‘M’ pounds the smite button and laughs, out in Utah a humming bird is sucked into an industrial fan. Suddenly a flashing image catches her eye.
“Hey back that one up,” bellows ‘M’
“Uh this one” asks one of her minions, sort of a duckbilled platypus looking thing, I think, its not important- moving on
“No you ovarian clutching warm blooded tattle wit the other one,” screeches big ‘M’
“This one?”
“No over there, to your left, no my left look see the direction your going, not there” hollers ‘M’ while pounding the “smite” button repeatedly in frustration. In Mongolia a yak falls off a mountain, in France a puppy decides to play in the road and in Africa a Red Assed Baboon gets hemorrhoids.
“How about this one?”
“Arghhh!” again with the pounding, the Baboon’s rhoids explode killing 12 and setting the forest on fire.
For some time this continues, when you have an infinite number of video screens it can get confusing. Eventually the screen is located and the scene in question expanded across the wall. On the screen a teacher home for the summer is preparing to put the last coat of finish on a floor he has been slaving away at for weeks. It is a masterpiece, the crowning achievement of the human race. Around the man are the tools of the trade. A brand new finish pad is carefully prepared for its moment of glory. The pad is briskly vacuumed to make sure all loose fibers are removed, giving the floor a blemish free shine. Behind him is a pile of clean lint free rags moistened with paint thinner, beyond that a pile of rags that have just been used to re-wipe the entire floor, everything is ready.
“Bring me the red phone,” barks Mother Nature
“But ‘M’ why, what has he done to disserve the wrath of the red phone?” asks a minion cowering in the corner.
“His lawn mower is an abomination, the phone NOW!”
A bright red phone is brought out, its an old rotary dial with an ominous flashing light, oh and an antenna, ooh ooh ooh and it is probably smoking, yeh, its smoking. ‘M’ speaks into the handset for a minute and hangs it up with a sadistic grin. Out in the wilds of Montana a horde is stirring.
“Oh no you didn’t unleash the white beasts on the poor man did you, that’s cruel” squeaks the minion.
“Yes as we speak gabafriblillionzillions of my white hairy butt bugs are converging on the house, homing in on the light he is unable to turn off once he starts coating the floor,” cackles Mother Nature.
“Oh but he is totally unprepared! Yesterday there were no bugs, he will have no idea the danger he is in!”
“Oh yes, I have held this hatching in reserve, waiting for the night he tried to finish the finish. I made these special, small enough to pass through the window screens they will be drawn the light and cluster on the ceiling, invisible thanks to their little hairy white asses” gasps ‘M’ in an overly long and complex explanation
“Oh so as long as the light is on they will remain fixated by its beacon glow, right?” asks the minion.
“No that’s the beauty of my plan, I made these bugs susceptible to the fumes! Like graduation night at a Prep school, the merest whiff of finish fumes will bring them crashing down in a heap of shattered morals and tiny hairy white butts!”
Back in Montana the finish is flowing on smooth and easy thanks to the nearly hour-long preparations of our incredibly handsome hero. A tiny white speck appears on the floor. Himm? that wasn’t there a moment ago he thinks to himself. Grabbing one of his carefully placed lint free rags he arches across the glistening finish, contorting like a doped Russian gymnast to nab the spot. But soon others appear, farther out on the finish, out of the reach of even the most limber and lubricated contortionist. More and more specks start to dot the floor. Bending for a closer look our hero of astatically pleasing proportions watches as the kamikaze hairy butt bug adds its death squiggles to the new floor. Shaking his fist at the screen door he shouts ‘Damn you hairy butt bugs, damn you to hell!’ Moment of cliché passed our hero slumps in resignation of the plight that has befallen him. Determined to remove at least the pestilence he can reach our Fabio-esq hunk grabs a cloth and gets to dabbing. Rag in hand and peering down with grim satisfaction as another death squiggle is acted out our scrumptious hero stops. A closer look… is that bug wearing a Prep school uniform?
Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of the floor finish saga and find the answer to what everyone has been talking about, was that bug wearing a Prep school uniform?
(you kind of have to read it like an old Flash Gordon or Doc Savage episode)
Secure in her Fortress of Solitude Mother Nature is monitoring the world as images flash to her on a wall of video screens. In her left hand is a gin and tonic, her right fist hovers over a large red button labeled “smite”. Taking a hit of her drink ‘M’ pounds the smite button and laughs, out in Utah a humming bird is sucked into an industrial fan. Suddenly a flashing image catches her eye.
“Hey back that one up,” bellows ‘M’
“Uh this one” asks one of her minions, sort of a duckbilled platypus looking thing, I think, its not important- moving on
“No you ovarian clutching warm blooded tattle wit the other one,” screeches big ‘M’
“This one?”
“No over there, to your left, no my left look see the direction your going, not there” hollers ‘M’ while pounding the “smite” button repeatedly in frustration. In Mongolia a yak falls off a mountain, in France a puppy decides to play in the road and in Africa a Red Assed Baboon gets hemorrhoids.
“How about this one?”
“Arghhh!” again with the pounding, the Baboon’s rhoids explode killing 12 and setting the forest on fire.
For some time this continues, when you have an infinite number of video screens it can get confusing. Eventually the screen is located and the scene in question expanded across the wall. On the screen a teacher home for the summer is preparing to put the last coat of finish on a floor he has been slaving away at for weeks. It is a masterpiece, the crowning achievement of the human race. Around the man are the tools of the trade. A brand new finish pad is carefully prepared for its moment of glory. The pad is briskly vacuumed to make sure all loose fibers are removed, giving the floor a blemish free shine. Behind him is a pile of clean lint free rags moistened with paint thinner, beyond that a pile of rags that have just been used to re-wipe the entire floor, everything is ready.
“Bring me the red phone,” barks Mother Nature
“But ‘M’ why, what has he done to disserve the wrath of the red phone?” asks a minion cowering in the corner.
“His lawn mower is an abomination, the phone NOW!”
A bright red phone is brought out, its an old rotary dial with an ominous flashing light, oh and an antenna, ooh ooh ooh and it is probably smoking, yeh, its smoking. ‘M’ speaks into the handset for a minute and hangs it up with a sadistic grin. Out in the wilds of Montana a horde is stirring.
“Oh no you didn’t unleash the white beasts on the poor man did you, that’s cruel” squeaks the minion.
“Yes as we speak gabafriblillionzillions of my white hairy butt bugs are converging on the house, homing in on the light he is unable to turn off once he starts coating the floor,” cackles Mother Nature.
“Oh but he is totally unprepared! Yesterday there were no bugs, he will have no idea the danger he is in!”
“Oh yes, I have held this hatching in reserve, waiting for the night he tried to finish the finish. I made these special, small enough to pass through the window screens they will be drawn the light and cluster on the ceiling, invisible thanks to their little hairy white asses” gasps ‘M’ in an overly long and complex explanation
“Oh so as long as the light is on they will remain fixated by its beacon glow, right?” asks the minion.
“No that’s the beauty of my plan, I made these bugs susceptible to the fumes! Like graduation night at a Prep school, the merest whiff of finish fumes will bring them crashing down in a heap of shattered morals and tiny hairy white butts!”
Back in Montana the finish is flowing on smooth and easy thanks to the nearly hour-long preparations of our incredibly handsome hero. A tiny white speck appears on the floor. Himm? that wasn’t there a moment ago he thinks to himself. Grabbing one of his carefully placed lint free rags he arches across the glistening finish, contorting like a doped Russian gymnast to nab the spot. But soon others appear, farther out on the finish, out of the reach of even the most limber and lubricated contortionist. More and more specks start to dot the floor. Bending for a closer look our hero of astatically pleasing proportions watches as the kamikaze hairy butt bug adds its death squiggles to the new floor. Shaking his fist at the screen door he shouts ‘Damn you hairy butt bugs, damn you to hell!’ Moment of cliché passed our hero slumps in resignation of the plight that has befallen him. Determined to remove at least the pestilence he can reach our Fabio-esq hunk grabs a cloth and gets to dabbing. Rag in hand and peering down with grim satisfaction as another death squiggle is acted out our scrumptious hero stops. A closer look… is that bug wearing a Prep school uniform?
Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of the floor finish saga and find the answer to what everyone has been talking about, was that bug wearing a Prep school uniform?
