A blog-esque blog
"Well, Petey" Melvin says, "Now's the time for some Kan-Tong! Kan-Tong Taste Good Safe Eating Keep Out Of Children! Yum Tom Bim Bam Boom!"
Chester and I stare at Melvin, aghast at his outburst.
"Sorry," Melvin sighs, "Advertising companies are trying to creep onto the blog again. Don't you just hate it when they do that?"
We nod, knowingly.
"ANYWAY," Melvin screams in a Trogdor-esque way, "What I really meant to say is that we must go and get the chalice of power! That is the reason your mother managed her kingdom so well and kept the revolting elves called Roger at bay, ow bay. It is a magical chalice, that, when acticated, has the power to make all in one's kingdom submissive, cheerful, and able to remember all the verses of Be Thou My Vision, which they then sing repetitively!"
"Be Thou My Vision!" I exclaim. "I love that song! Especially Van Morrison's version of it!"
"Well, then you are obviously the rightful heir to Trevor's throne then." Melvin muses meditatively, making mincemeat of my mullet (well, he's a good hairdresser!) "Only the true heir could ever like a cover of a song done by Van Morrison."
I nod. Chester doesn't. He just sits in his chains, glaring at me glaringly. I put on my sunglasses and turn to face him. The glare is garish, glowing and girrrr-bright.
"Chester! Where is the chalice of power?!?!?" I ask, in a Ford Courier Turbo Diesel Ad-esque way.
"I'll only tell if you give me your Mills and Boone collection!" Chester cries, laughing in a laughter-esque way.
I stand stock still, my mouth open. What a decision! The safety of some random kingdom, or a golden collection of some of the best writing ever produced! A small chalice which makes people sing an annoying song, or a firstly minted, finely packaged stockpile of the great literary works of the century! A few elves called Roger bowing to me (while still singing that annoying song), or a library of timeless, priceless, untarnished masterpieces!
"Ok." I say, trying to sound offhand about it, but really hurting inside. "You can have them. But where's the chalice?"
Chester smiles. "Yes!!! Mills and Boone are mine! The chalice is in a cave... a cave in the Utah Bad-Lands!!"
"I knew it!" Melvin exclaims.
"Well, why didn't you tell me!" I moan. "I just lost the only thing that ever really mattered to me, all for a silly song-stick! Thanks a lot!"
Melvin winces.
Chester laughs evilly, in an evil-esque way.
PC : : NC
Chester and I stare at Melvin, aghast at his outburst.
"Sorry," Melvin sighs, "Advertising companies are trying to creep onto the blog again. Don't you just hate it when they do that?"
We nod, knowingly.
"ANYWAY," Melvin screams in a Trogdor-esque way, "What I really meant to say is that we must go and get the chalice of power! That is the reason your mother managed her kingdom so well and kept the revolting elves called Roger at bay, ow bay. It is a magical chalice, that, when acticated, has the power to make all in one's kingdom submissive, cheerful, and able to remember all the verses of Be Thou My Vision, which they then sing repetitively!"
"Be Thou My Vision!" I exclaim. "I love that song! Especially Van Morrison's version of it!"
"Well, then you are obviously the rightful heir to Trevor's throne then." Melvin muses meditatively, making mincemeat of my mullet (well, he's a good hairdresser!) "Only the true heir could ever like a cover of a song done by Van Morrison."
I nod. Chester doesn't. He just sits in his chains, glaring at me glaringly. I put on my sunglasses and turn to face him. The glare is garish, glowing and girrrr-bright.
"Chester! Where is the chalice of power?!?!?" I ask, in a Ford Courier Turbo Diesel Ad-esque way.
"I'll only tell if you give me your Mills and Boone collection!" Chester cries, laughing in a laughter-esque way.
I stand stock still, my mouth open. What a decision! The safety of some random kingdom, or a golden collection of some of the best writing ever produced! A small chalice which makes people sing an annoying song, or a firstly minted, finely packaged stockpile of the great literary works of the century! A few elves called Roger bowing to me (while still singing that annoying song), or a library of timeless, priceless, untarnished masterpieces!
"Ok." I say, trying to sound offhand about it, but really hurting inside. "You can have them. But where's the chalice?"
Chester smiles. "Yes!!! Mills and Boone are mine! The chalice is in a cave... a cave in the Utah Bad-Lands!!"
"I knew it!" Melvin exclaims.
"Well, why didn't you tell me!" I moan. "I just lost the only thing that ever really mattered to me, all for a silly song-stick! Thanks a lot!"
Melvin winces.
Chester laughs evilly, in an evil-esque way.
PC : : NC
posted by Musings | 7:58 PM
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