Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Pt. 28

YYYYYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA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There was a moment of awkward silence as Bo spontaneously hit puberty.

"Well then... um...  maybe we should get a box for this..." Tom said, indicating to their untouched meal.

As the weary travelers headed onward, Bo began to sense an accumulating wave of foreboding in the air... something was going to happen.
"Kangaroo Jim, do you think we should stop somewhere for the night?" he asked.
"Little boy kitty, I do believe that's an excellent idea! Where to?" replied Tom.
"Well, I was thinking we could stop in at the local tourist bureau and see if anyone there could tell us about a nice bed and br--- GAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"
Out of the blackness of night sprung a cloaked figure, and gripping Bo by the neck and Tom by the chest hair, swung them in a high arc into the back seat of a horse-drawn hearse. Springing into the drivers seat, the mysterious figure took up the reigns and sent the coach whizzing into the black abyss of a starless night.
" This sure is one owl of a pot pie!" cried Bo, as he clung to his newly rebooted gut for dear life.
"I'd say it is!" Chirped Tom Jones, "If ever two cats on a way to the races were to be glued to the windshield and ran out into the storm, this is it!"
"Eye-eye-eye-eye..." began the driver before Tom Jones cut in,
"...Knee! Oh boy, this is a fun game!"
"Eye say, where da bloody bang farting blowtorch'd you boys say yous come from?" asked the cloaked figure.
"You watch your language, mister!" Snapped Tom Jones.
"We're going to... er... Nantucket... to um... sail... boats... we're sailors," said Bo.
"Well den! Dat's a right bloody fluffy fish of a profession!" said the cloaked figure, making conversation.
"Listen here, mister Tutti Frutti," said Tom Jones, rising to his feet, then sitting back down when he found the crouching position he could assume less threatening than he had originally anticipated, "I'd like you to stop using language like that! It is offensive and rude and ads little or nothing to the efficiency of the point you are trying to express! If you do not comply, I may have to become cross with you!"
"W-w-w-w-w-ell don'tchew be a bone busting bag of barf! I taught chew was a bleedin sailor!"
"I like to maintain an air of professionalism in my conversation, so as to make up for the generally tarnished reputation of a my profession's dialect. GUMDROPS!!!!!!"
"Eye-eye-eye-eye-eye beg yer bleedin pardon?"
"What?"
"Why'd yewe just say bloody gumdrops to me?"
"I didn't."
"Yes you bleedin' did, Eye 'erd it wit me own ears!"
"Then your ears are full of leprechauns because I most definitely did not say..."
"Enough!" cut in Bo. "Sir, we do so appreciate the ride, but perhaps you could let us off in a bit. You see, my... matey... and I are... um... looking to batten down the hatches in a... um... land... galley..."
"Eeee, donchew worry 'bout dat, bloody 'elephant! Me and SHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRROOON, da missus, be fixin ya a right cozy cuppa before we SLAUGHTER YOU AND EAT YOUR SOULS... er... give yewe a nice bit a rest."
"Oooh! I'd like that!" said Tom Jones, who had found a catalog under the seat and was looking at pictures of standing mixers.

30 comments:

That Blond Guy said...

Hm.

Weird.

Is that Tom Jones like the artist behind "It's Not Unusual" and "What's New Pussycat" or someone else entirely.

Either way: weird.

I think I'm going to follow.

That Blond Guy said...

Also, I have a question. Are there two different "Militant Working Boys?"

Unknown said...

Insane, as usual, Mili. Utterly.

Tom Jones is indeed THE Tom Jones of "What's new Pussycat" fame.

We'd love to have you follow. Although The Story may make a bit more sense to you if you started at the beginning to get caught up.

I'll let the two Militant Working Boys field your second question.

Darryl said...

What is this! Some sort of stranger!? Incroyable.

I always love reading MWBs contributions...reminds me of my days being spaced out on LSD.

E. Studnicka said...

To answer your question, That Blond Guy... yes.

The Militant Working Boy said...

To answer your question, That Blond Guy... no.

Unknown said...

The first MWB always tells the truth, and the second MWB always lies.

Unknown said...

That works better if you're asking one a question about the other, though.

Madeline Hammersmark said...

I love Labyrinth.

E. Studnicka said...

Labrynth?

Madeline Hammersmark said...

Oh my...

That Blond Guy said...

I did it. I've finished The Story.

I am ashamed and awe-struck to be in the presence of such colossal genius, such celestial brillance and staggeringly beautiful perfection.

Please, I beg you, may I kiss your boots?

E. Studnicka said...

In our land, boots are made of marmalade and newcomers are welcomed with a ceremonial festival of line dancing and magic tricks. Make yourself at home!

Unknown said...

Mili, if you haven't seen Labyrinth, with David Bowie in the thinnest pair of tights possible before they become stockings, covering his thunder, you really should. It's Frank Oz!

E. Studnicka said...

I cannot honestly say that I am alive until I see that. Thank you.

Madeline Hammersmark said...

"What kinda magic spell to use!?"

Man, Bowie is so hot in that movie.

E. Studnicka said...

How is he not in the story yet???

Madeline Hammersmark said...

You just wait til it's my turn again....

E. Studnicka said...

... oh... were you being serious, Hammersmark?
(In annoying sing-song voice) It's been a weeee-eeeek!

Madeline Hammersmark said...

Oh shit! I thought it was Darryl's turn!

ewps

I kept coming back thinking "wtf, why hasn't he written his part?"

Anywho, the next part will be up Friday night. I apologize!

E. Studnicka said...

No Problemo! We'll just blame it on Darryl.

Darryl said...

Dammit. Scapegoated again.

Unknown said...

It was Darryl's turn. Hammersmark just took his turn the last time.

E. Studnicka said...

Woah! Who's th-
Oh... dang it, Nico! I thought we had another reader!
OK... So it's

MWB
Darryl
Hammersmark
Nico

Right?

Unknown said...

Yeah, sorry. I got bored when my computer broke and took a shitload of ironic bathroom photos.

Anyway, yes, that's how I understood it to be, but Hammersmark took Darryl's turn for him after his return, and I guess that caused confusion.

Madeline Hammersmark said...

Well when you did the list, you put me in front of Darryl, but technically I think Darryl is before me. I don't care who does what, just let me know because I was planning on sitting down tonight and writing my part.

E. Studnicka said...

If you don't mind, I think that'll be easier, instead of waiting another week for the next post, if you were planning on doing it tonight, I think that should be just fine.

Who am I kidding? I just want to read more of your writing!

Madeline Hammersmark said...

Fair enough. It should be up tonight sometime.

Unknown said...

You're so flexible.

Madeline Hammersmark said...

Yeah, not happening tonight. My neck is so jacked up that I need to finish this tequila, remove the crap from my bed, and flop in it. I promise I'll do it when I wake up.