- Sep 6, 2001
- 28,010
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This was basically an story inspired by some random idiot, outlined (horribly) by me and edited and finalized by Glenn. Warning: Jewjokes.
Once upon a time there was a man named Barry who lived in an apartmentcastle. Barry had a pet ostrich, which was the source of much hardship. His superintendent, Floyd Garganzola, gave him much grief because his portly wife was allergic to large birds, and Floyd was not fond of Barry riding the ostrich to the public restroom.
Unfortunately, Floyd did not know that his obese wife's allergy to the ostrich would deeply offend the ninja community, who plotted their revenge for her blasphemy...their plan would involve potted meat and post-it notes. When combined, these things formed the dreaded post-it meat, responsible for the wiping out of entire African nations. These post-it-meats were not mere balls of rancid slaughterhouse cast-off...they were in fact the vital ingredient to summon Maragana-obishi, the great Dragon of Doom foretold in Ninja prophecy, for only it would consume something so foul.
The Dragon of Doom was called forth in a sickening cloud of Spam-dust, but upon the great Wyrm demanding the remaining meat to call forth his wretched dinner chopsticks, it was discovered that the Soviets had taken away the post-it meats and left a note stating "You are on the way to destruction. All your meat are belong to us. Hahaha." Of course, the ninjas instantly knew this meant one thing... the Soviets were going to attack Wisconsin, the secret ninja headquarters!
When told of the nefarious plan, Maragana-obishi simply chuckled and spewed forth Space Ninjas to orbit the planet and obliterate the Post-it meat-missiles launched... but all had been duped. It seems the missiles weren't headed for Wisconsin, and could not be launched currently because they were Passover missiles, The world's supply of menorahs was causing interference of their Dreidel Detection Devices, located in the missiles' warheads. Once the Menorahs were gone, the missiles could Pass Over. Their purpose was to detect the Armageddon Dreidel, which the Steel Hatted Popeclone Legions had sought for aeons. The Soviets were mere puppets of the SHPCL; the plan was set into motion--with the ninjas in space, they would do as they pleased.
Fortunately, with the aid of the dragon-spewed ninjas, the nefarious plans were revealed, the lair of the Popeclones ninja-raided. They had thought the location--an apartment in Manhattan--inconspicuous. The clones were easily dispatched with stars of David, thrown ninja-quickly. But the menorahs had already been stolen; the missiles had found the Armageddon Dreidel... sitting in Barry's own apartmentcastle. Barry's ostrich swallowed the Armageddon Dreidel, thinking it a fruit... But the portly wife of Floyd Garganzola screeched at the sight of the bird in their clean apartmentcastle , startling it into spitting it out. She attempted to catch the dreidel, but only succeeded in causing it to enter the fatal Spin State of Doom, when her hands slipped and she fumbled it.
The Dreidel exploded, causing the end of the world via a punishing rain of gold-foil wrapped chocolate coins.
Bonus Story, also inspired by said idiot:
I heard a man playing the spoons with the aid of a rubber banded roll of toilet paper... this affected me in such a way, that nothing seemed to exist around me, and I was mysteriously drawn to an old grizzled black man.
"What is your name?" I asked. The man did not reply and simply kept playing the spoons. He seemed to be able to make various sex noises with his ear.
At this I became strangely aroused...this only fueled the intrigue. I reached out to touch the man...
He ceased his spoon playery and uttered but two words... "Burrito Horse"... suddenly a shuirken was sticking out of his neck, and he died. I was left there, wondering forever what the hell I has just seen.
The End.
Once upon a time there was a man named Barry who lived in an apartmentcastle. Barry had a pet ostrich, which was the source of much hardship. His superintendent, Floyd Garganzola, gave him much grief because his portly wife was allergic to large birds, and Floyd was not fond of Barry riding the ostrich to the public restroom.
Unfortunately, Floyd did not know that his obese wife's allergy to the ostrich would deeply offend the ninja community, who plotted their revenge for her blasphemy...their plan would involve potted meat and post-it notes. When combined, these things formed the dreaded post-it meat, responsible for the wiping out of entire African nations. These post-it-meats were not mere balls of rancid slaughterhouse cast-off...they were in fact the vital ingredient to summon Maragana-obishi, the great Dragon of Doom foretold in Ninja prophecy, for only it would consume something so foul.
The Dragon of Doom was called forth in a sickening cloud of Spam-dust, but upon the great Wyrm demanding the remaining meat to call forth his wretched dinner chopsticks, it was discovered that the Soviets had taken away the post-it meats and left a note stating "You are on the way to destruction. All your meat are belong to us. Hahaha." Of course, the ninjas instantly knew this meant one thing... the Soviets were going to attack Wisconsin, the secret ninja headquarters!
When told of the nefarious plan, Maragana-obishi simply chuckled and spewed forth Space Ninjas to orbit the planet and obliterate the Post-it meat-missiles launched... but all had been duped. It seems the missiles weren't headed for Wisconsin, and could not be launched currently because they were Passover missiles, The world's supply of menorahs was causing interference of their Dreidel Detection Devices, located in the missiles' warheads. Once the Menorahs were gone, the missiles could Pass Over. Their purpose was to detect the Armageddon Dreidel, which the Steel Hatted Popeclone Legions had sought for aeons. The Soviets were mere puppets of the SHPCL; the plan was set into motion--with the ninjas in space, they would do as they pleased.
Fortunately, with the aid of the dragon-spewed ninjas, the nefarious plans were revealed, the lair of the Popeclones ninja-raided. They had thought the location--an apartment in Manhattan--inconspicuous. The clones were easily dispatched with stars of David, thrown ninja-quickly. But the menorahs had already been stolen; the missiles had found the Armageddon Dreidel... sitting in Barry's own apartmentcastle. Barry's ostrich swallowed the Armageddon Dreidel, thinking it a fruit... But the portly wife of Floyd Garganzola screeched at the sight of the bird in their clean apartmentcastle , startling it into spitting it out. She attempted to catch the dreidel, but only succeeded in causing it to enter the fatal Spin State of Doom, when her hands slipped and she fumbled it.
The Dreidel exploded, causing the end of the world via a punishing rain of gold-foil wrapped chocolate coins.
Bonus Story, also inspired by said idiot:
I heard a man playing the spoons with the aid of a rubber banded roll of toilet paper... this affected me in such a way, that nothing seemed to exist around me, and I was mysteriously drawn to an old grizzled black man.
"What is your name?" I asked. The man did not reply and simply kept playing the spoons. He seemed to be able to make various sex noises with his ear.
At this I became strangely aroused...this only fueled the intrigue. I reached out to touch the man...
He ceased his spoon playery and uttered but two words... "Burrito Horse"... suddenly a shuirken was sticking out of his neck, and he died. I was left there, wondering forever what the hell I has just seen.
The End.
Not many care to comment. My story must suck 
