Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Geoff Comics #1


Kevyn and I once made a character one time when we were talking about shit I don't remember. His name is Geoff the Robot Butler with Tourettes. Here is a poem I made about him.

His name is Geoff the Robot,
programmed to be is polite and formal,
but when you see behind his stone-cold looks,
he is slightly paranormal.

He may look normal, but strange he does get,
You cannot see whats wrong? Well lets.
Are you done with your guesses? Are you done with your bets?
Well this fuckin' robot has touretts!

Wearing a tuxedo, he does not look the part.
He seems polite as a cracker and as nice as a tart!
Before you go thinking "He does not have touretts! You are not smart!"
Geoff yells "Poo, bum, dick and FART!"

He drops every glass and drops every plate,
and just when you thought you impressed your date,
your mate yells those words, and you knew your fate,
Your girlfriend dumps you at the time of eight.

You turn to your robot friend and shout "What the fuck was that all about?"
And as you're about to take him out,
"It's tourettes!" he says, and gives you a pout.

He explains that his problem really sucks,
And that he swears more than a sick duck,
you think he has explained without swearing a muck,
you see his mouth murm, his eye twitch, his neck turn,
then you find out you're out of luck, because...
Fuck, fuck fuck and FUCK!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Kevyn's Fiktion Korner #1

Alfrenzo stalked around the corner of the warehouse, bones almost bursting from his skin under the huge mass of the item he was carrying. "DAMMIT!" He rasped "THIS THING IS DAMN HEAVY!"
"Then put it down." Said a calm voice. There was a sound that would easily pursuade one to think the box had been placed upon the concrete slab that served as the floor. "I CAN"T!" blurted Alfrenzo, the veins in his forehead ready to burst out and lead lives of their own.
"Why not?" queried the voice. "MY ARMS ARE BLOODY STUCK UNDER IT!" spat Alfrenzo, in small bursts.
"Aah. That would also explain the immense pain you are experiencing."
"SOD OFF!" belted Alfrenzo excitedly.
A pair of black gloves (in this case attatched to hands, arms, and an entire body) shifted the crate off of Alfrenzo, with no small amount of effort. Alfrenzo stared in horror at the disrepair of his arms. "You should probably have that looked at." said the voice, absent mindedly. Alfrenzo slinked out into the mid-afternoon clutching painful limbs with other painful limbs. The voice removed his top hat and placed it on the ground next to him. His pinstriped pants came into view of the waning sunlight. He levered the lid of the crate off with a concealed crowbar, and leaned in to view his imported prize.
"PILLOWS!"he cried."Wait, what!?"

Friday, August 7, 2009

The Longest Analogy

Last Christmas I quite unexpectedly received a playstation3, even though I was quite happy with my wii.

It's like...
You're driving along in your groovy little Volkswagen beetle, and you're thinking about how you might get some of those fluffy dice when they become available, and how you would really like that new upholstery but it's a bit expensive. So you're driving along the life highway, stacking up little coffee cup towers and doing colouring books, when you turn into your driveway and right there, in your garage is the latest Aston Martin, complete with James Bond gadgetry.
You hop in, take it for a bit of a test drive sure, at the moment the only gadgets you have are the cup holder and ejector seat, but it has a CD player, which is nice. Anyway, you try the cup holder and it's not very good, but then you try the ejector seat. You shoot up into the air, and on the way down you see all this user created content and you hear the sweet voice of Stephen Fry.
You think; "Maybe I could just use this ejector seat forever." but then you remember; what about your life? What about your friends? What about all those crazy samba dance tracks on your cassette player in the beetle?

So you think "No, that could never work, what use is a spy car without gadgets?" so you put on some demo gadgets, the spy car grows wings, but not far enough out to fly, it emits a pleasant perfume, but for only a few seconds, leaving you wanting more, and you think; "Wow, this is pretty." but then you realize, this stuff is expensive. Maybe even expensive and you think about all the fun times you had stacking up your cheap coffee cups in the beetle, and how you got ripped off on the seats, but they were fun for everyone, so it was alright, and how you got that cassette tape of crazy mash-up songs, but it wasn't very good, and you didn't know any of the songs, so you traded it in for the crazy samba tracks, because at least you could hum along. Most of all you think about those fluffy dice, and how your interest in them seems to have faded into history, and how the upholstery you were going to get for the beetle could also fit the Aston Martin, although it would be a tad more expensive, and all in all you're very confused, because all your long term goals for the beetle have been totally undermined by the sudden and inexplicable arrival of this monolith of a machine.

You're interested though, because it will give you a chance to see what everyone has been going on about with their Ferraris. Your little beetle didn't have enough horsepower to go the same speed, and although you technically had sort of the same thing, yours was more of a billy cart then a Ferrari, and try as you might you couldn't get the same things to work for you as they did for them. Specifically the flame thrower.

Everyone loves the flamethrower it seems, it getting such great reviews from everywhere and all your friends having fun with it non-stop.
You try attaching a flamethrower to your billy-cart, but there isn't enough room on it, and it's lack of an engine makes it spurt if coughs and bursts. You could put a flamethrower on the Aston Martin. True, it would have to be retrofitted and might lose some of its extra features, but the main point is that you would have had the experience. Trouble is that's expensive. Everything is expensive and you can't find any free trials.
Things were alright when all you were building up towards the new upholstery; you had a single goal, a single dream. Now that dream has been chomped up and spat around in little bits, so only a ghostlike outline of your original intentions is visible.

But you don't have any money, so for now, it seems you're just going to muck about with the ejector seat.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Tale of Steve the Sadistic Robot.

Once there was a lad in a class who had nothing to do. So he did this:

Once there was a robot called he Steve. He was a bit of a recluse and spent most of him time writing dreary poetry and slashing his robotic wrists. This was all very easy for him, because he couldn't feel pain. He was a robot. He liked to think about pain, though he couldn't inflict pain upon himself, and his programming prevented him from inflicting pain on others.

Steve spent a lot of time doing not very violent, but almost torturous things. Like crucifying himself upside-down on a cross made out of the limbs of his obsolete previous models, and simulating his own drowning by putting himself on a long cycle in a washing machine. Steve couldn't do any real damage to himself, because he was invincible. This was an unfortunate by product of the time he spent near the Tinkers shack, where he had to recharge himself sometimes. While Steve was offline, the Tinker decided it would be the perfect time to add unneeded extras on to Steve, like giant crab claws, a giant clown wig and a giant bunny ears.
The Tinker was putting a huge cramp on Steve's emo style, and Steve made the decision that the Tinker was a massive douche.

Late on a cloudless night Steve crept into the Tinkers shack, disarming the bolted door with his crab claws. Then, utilizing some ad-hock brain surgery equipment, he planted an egg from the last living creature on the earth, the Gigantic and Incredibly Nightmare Inspiring Cuttlefish.

A few weeks later Steve awoke to the sound of tortured screams, and he was finally happy with his life.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Testicular Tuesday

I don't know. I don't know. Claus is my name. Claus Urlande. and my servant's name is Penny Chinklechange. And his servant is called by the name of Pablo Inskrefabio. And he has a servant, and I am trying to recall that guy's name too. I am totally looking at him right now, and drawing a blank. Drinkle... Di... no, whatever. Screw this.

Anyway, we have been stuck in this cave for a long time. Like, super long. It is just totally crazy how long it has been. Do you not believe me? Well okay. Go to your friend. Ask him how long totally long is. What did he answer with? That is how long I have been in here. Your friend would know, he is a pretty smart guy. Anyway, a long time. Months, years...

Days even!

I may say this, but we are going pretty okay in here. We talk, play games we make up, and talk about how hot that stick next to the big stone is. Pablo may think she has fallen for him, but she is totally right up my alley. Jeepers, look at her. Bark as brown as, uh, bark.

As for food, we have some of that. Gravel, sticks, oil and some inexplicable liquid makes up our day. May not sound appetizing, but it keeps me thin like a bottle of gin, depending if the bottle of gin is quite thin, and not like a big jug. If it was a big jug, that would be pretty awkward.
Also, Stick-next-to-big-rock's sisters are for the eating too, if you know what I mean! Rawrrr!

They are delicious.

Oh god, That Guy is trying to start a cult following again. Too bad he is but a butler of a butler of a butler. Haha! Being rich rules.

Anyway, I will have to cut this short. Tonight may be the night I will have a date with Stick-next-to-the-big-rock! I just have to talk to her about the whole eating-her-sisters thing. That would be awkward.

Claus Urlande

Crogabond jumps the shark; a dolphin's wives tale

I am running a new segment on to you; the STORIES OF LORE AND WAR. Any day I want I will be writing a story about whatever I want. The stories will have titles relating to the day and the story, and they are intended as children fairy tales. I will be posting one to the morrow, so get ready, you motherfuckers!

Get the FUCK ready.