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Tristania---"World of Glass"
Before you read further, please take the time to read Bob's column from 5/7/04.
Did you read it? For those that did, you may read further. For those that didn't, go read it now!
There. Now we're all on the same page.
Note that Bob DID NOT ANSWER THE QUESTION. Instead he went on a tangent about himself because he's not of the belief
that there's no "I" in team. Instead he thinks the world revolves around himself and fuck everyone else
and their problems.
So I'll just go ahead and answer the question for Bob since I am a team player:
You'll know when leftovers are bad when you come home one day and find your wife cowering in a corner because the
month old container of 3 Cheese Hamburger Helper with sliced hot dogs decided it didn't want to be cooped up any
longer and somehow developed a brain in one of its multitude of mold clumps causing it to become smarter than Einstein
which gave it the ability to somehow escape from refrigerator hell and grow appendages not unlike human arms and
legs and also develop the grasping skill so it could pick up the pair of pruning shears conveniently lying on the
kitchen table for some ungodly reason.
You'll know the leftover is bad when it swiftly and easily cuts of your wife's head with the shears and then picks
up the head and dances madly around the kitchen screaming Latin phrases from it's newly formed mouth and vocal
cords until it sees you standing there in dumb shock and it decides to go after YOU because now it's out for revenge.
Run you must and run you do but the leftover has developed the speed gene and you are soon overtaken and thrown
to the ground but not before you cry out weakly for someone somehow to come to your aid even though you know it's
not going to do any good because by now the leftover has grabbed your tongue and ripped it out of your mouth and,
adding insult to injury, slapped you repeatedly about the face and neck with it.
You struggle and struggle and, after a small rest, struggle some more but you're getting weaker and weaker by the
moment until you remember that you placed a plastic fork in your shirt pocket during your lunch hour at work and
so you pull it out and start stabbing the leftover with it.
You discover that stabbing has little effect so you start eating the leftover which causes it to cry out in agony
but you must defeat the evil so you continue eating even as the leftover screams and flails weakly at you and soon
there is nothing left.
You get to your feet feeling victorious but soon notice that there's a couple of tiny beings playing ping pong
in your stomach with a spiked ball and next thing you know you're in the bathroom vomiting the leftover into the
toilet for what seems like hours until there's nothing to spit up except for the blood that continues to spray
from the remaining piece of your tongue.
You then take your trusty Bic lighter and cauterize your tongue and then you hear a sound from the toilet and when
you look you see the leftover is still alive and has murder in it's many eyes so you flush the bastard out to sea
hoping that there won't be a part 2 to this horror.
And now you REALLY know.
COMING NEXT:
Wooden legs in a crate.
Email Stephen!
snide_remarks@theweirdcrap.com |
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