“Kick his fuckin’ ass Joe!” Greg screams at the top of his lungs, a tendril of drool projecting from his mouth and swinging off to the side in the breeze. Joe glances over at him, Grins maniacally, and turns to face his victim again. Poor little Timmy cowers as Joe’s two hundred pound bulk of masculinity towers over him. A meaty fist slams into Timmy’s nose, a sickening crack and…
How the hell do you get yourself into these situations? There’s no way you can pick up the dog, get little Allen his birthday present, pick up the alimony check from Stan, and still make that dinner salad for the potluck tonight all in the next hour. Sure, maybe if you were Helen Slater you’d stand a chance, but face the facts, super powers is what you ain’t got, baby….
How the hell do you get yourself into these situations? There’s no way you can pick up the dog, get little Allen his birthday present, pick up the alimony check from Stan, and still make that dinner salad for the potluck tonight all in the next hour. Sure, maybe if you were Helen Slater you’d stand a chance, but face the facts, super powers is what you ain’t got, baby….
“You gonn’ be da furst one ta feel da ultimate power,punk.” Damn, he’s a big man. One of the biggest I’ve seen actually. Good voice too. Let me guess, a singing instructor for garbage men? “I’s ‘bout ta wipe dat stupid grin offa yo face fo good sucka. What you got ta say ‘bout dat?” Oooo. What to say, what to say? I mean, the guy could send me flying…
Once upon a time… There lived an old man, not just figuratively, he was quite old. In fact, he’d been around for so long, he was rather tired of being around. He’d done everything he wanted to do, and seen everything he wanted to see, which in his old opinion, amounted to nothing good at all. The world was an awful place, you see, with wars and destruction, cruelty and…
This story is all merely a fantasy created by the “Maker” after witnessing all of the horrors of the real world, and finally, after seeing his best friend gunned down by Nazis, retreats into his own mind. He loses all contact with the outside, thus in Puppetland, the outside time does not progress at all. The warring factions within him are the forces of good, the forces of evil (Nazis),…
It’s my kind of place. The lights. The smoke. The music. Damn, I love this music. There’s nothing like a good country song to suit that kick ass mood. Hell, there’s a country song for every mood. Give me a couple more beers and I’ll be ready for one of those sad, make you cry songs, but not yet. They’re playing Garth’s “Rodeo” on the box, but it’s not quite…