The Adventures of the Steamboat Pirates

For Becky

Tue, 01 Feb 2005 02:46:19 GMT

Alex Esche & Tyler Foley Present:
The Canterbury Tales 2: Vengeance

When the last of evening light
Had fallen into the black of night
Out roams a different kind of folk
Those of this land of lights and smoke
For quick easy travel, these people know
The train is the most best way to go
On the last ride home from St. Peter’s Square
I hopped in the train, to my surprise, not bare
Then, before I had a chance to think
I heard in my ears a horrid clink
To my horror I saw through
The window, that there was naught we could do
Our car, through a twist of fate
Came off. I would be late
Home, I knew. Then Out
The window the train took a different route
As it pulled out from the station
A voice chimed “Commence Exploderization”
A flash of light, a deafening roar
I looked and there was train no more
Sitting shocked, trying to move my legs, it
Seemed to take hours to reach the exit
To open the door and survey the scene
But the mood was not quite yet serene
For this train held no normal cargo
It broke nearly every trade embargo
Chemicals sprayed on those who fled
And they became the living dead
I ran back in and blocked the door
My heart was beating to the core
After a while, composure regained
I surveyed the car into which I was chained
From fabled lands had come a Baron
For the opinions of others he was not carin’
A life of evil, a promise he had sworn
From his balding forehead grew a nasty pair of horns
Glowing eyes, clouds of gnats, an aura black as hatred
Yet in every town and guild, he was quite tolerated
He’d been accused, while wandering, with lists of heinous crimes
Assault, theft and murder were some of his favorite pastimes
His strength was great; his sword was sharp, stained with blood of children
Not one man knew, none dared to ask, what brought him to this train
Though I am quite a curious one, I asked him for his name.
Yet when I tilted nearer, to learn of tales of old
He mumbled his tale to me, and this is what he told
“It all began when he was but a lad of eighteen year
He had been training most his life; he knew not that called fear
The time had come, finally, for him to leave my guild
And go off to adventure, their honor he was to build.
But he was far too busy to deal with humble chores
Killing bees and rats seemed far too much of a bore
When he asked the Mater for a more exciting quest
He told him to do what he wants, trusting he knew best
Alas he was not right; no he really screwed that up.
This Master’s brightest pupil was no innocent little pup.
He went to nearest town, with weapon in his hand
And broke every law and ordinance ever known to man
He left there with a swagger, a bounce in every step
He’d show that pesky Hero’s Guild he was no teacher’s pet
And so from town to town he roamed, spreading fear
And chaos. Till those only who remained, were those that he’d held dear.
The hero’s guild, beacon of hope, by great walls surrounded
So in this great fortress, humanity’s fate was bounded
This man, now a Baron, stripped of hero’s name,
Walked confidently to the door, like good returning thane
Shocked, the walls defenders, lowered down their bows
Surely if he meant malice, he would not walk exposed?
A messenger sent out to ask, what this Baron meant
To think they would accept him, he with morals bent
At this the Baron pulled out an axe, a fiendishly crafted blade
And showed this luckless messenger the price that he would pay
He charged in axe swinging, deflecting every missile
Slaying all defenders, axe slicing with a whistle
He proceeded through the guildhall, to the center chamber
Where stood his former Master, both no that’s why he came here.
“Go” he said “Get out. You have done enough damage.”
The Baron, laughing, sauntered out. His justified life of sin
Would be taken by the Master, this would not occur again
With stealth unheard of most men, he pulled out his trusty bow
He knew the consequences if he let this bad man go
But fate turned against this man, in his time of need
The Baron turned and saw him, and his temper it did feed
A blinding rage returned, the madness of the bloodlust
Any thought of peace had blown far away on a wind gust.
And so he goes on to this day, doing the evil and daring
Long life that pompous student, the great Baron Von Baron!”
Now, this I all found fascinating, and so I wrote it down
When he saw this he looked, and gave a sort of frown
I feared that he would kill me too, especially knowing this
So I looked to the others all aboard to occupy my non-bliss.
Among us was a scoundrel, Haberdasher was his name
At least as far as I could tell, for he was quite insane
He wanted drugs, I picked up, of this I had no knowledge
He swore at me and so I declared his brains were made of porridge
He then picked up a bottle, it broke with a crackle
I likely would have died if not for that chance Ramshackle
Sent by the Ramshackler, a man of honor
When he was done with that hobo, he turned a funny color
Defender of justice and all that is true
Man, that Haberdasher was all black and blue
There was a jab to the left and a kick to the shin
And the Haberdasher returned to his tonic and gin
He whined in his corner, quite and reserved
For he knew inside he just got served
The Ramshackler went and paraded around
In his head he was a wee bit not sound.
Then he sat down and returned to a chair
Which secretly led to an underground lair
A lair undiscovered, and so it would stay
For the Ramshackler simply returned to playing with clay
A practice in which he often indulged
He ate some occasionally, his gut often bulged.
Haberdasher declared Ramshackler full of falsehoods
questioning the sanity of those who would buy his goods
So the two merchants got into another fray
So fierce that the only means of escape laid to the quay
The Ramshackler had poorly made tool after tool
And it was this reason that the Haberdasher took him for a fool
After the battle of battles had been fought
Even after the victor had been sought
A man known simply as the Carpet Bagger appeared
Who was seen as a traveling bard and was certainly revered
He knew how to please a crowd
But alas, his memory was not as sharp as his voice was loud
After witnessing the fight previously stated
He had finished his own version, although seemingly unrelated
“Listen all, for I have a story to tell,” said the bagger of carpets
From out of nowhere, an orchestra played, complete with bagpipes and trumpets
He told a vivid tale of a knight and a dragon merchant
The dragon made poor quality goods and burned many a peasant
The knight had challenged the lone dragon to a duel
But the knowledge the dragon had attained made the knight’s attempt futile
For you see, the knight had an enchanted shin
A bit of knowledge he thought was only known to his kin
But the dragon was crafty and sharp was his wit
He gave the knight a quick kick and his shin had then split
So the dragons reign of terror went on now that he was unmatched
Until he had fallen into old age, when his memory relapsed
On the day of the dragon’s death, there was a parade in celebration
The people were free so they expressed their joy without hesitation
So ended the story with every viewer confused
For they had seen the true account, and the bagger’s story seemed skewed
But the audience didn’t mind for they had gotten their tale
And in the morning they wouldn’t remember anyway on account of the ale’
Shortly there after, the teller of fortunes, Miss Cleo spoke up
It seemed that the Carpetbaggers nonsense was not enough
She was inaccurate with her readings and cost a hefty sum.
What might seem like guessing to most, she thought was wisdom
She told of the fabrics of time tearing apart
And murderous zombies hungry for heart
No one really had heeded her word
But as it turns out, their safety was far from insured
Throughout all this time, the undead
Who roamed outside, eating fruits of then head
Slowly approached our only safe haven
‘Twas not only a Snickers that they are a cravin’
Two brave men stepped up to the wave
Which quickly broke through my half-barricade
A pirate named Stubs, though he seemed a bit slighted
In face of his weapons zombies weren’t delighted
Blind in both eyes, both legs made of wood
Both arms were chopped off but he did the best that he could.
With a fork on the left, he skewered his foes
And then would do something crazy like wrap them up in a hose
A hose from his knife, which he had for a hand
Stolen from roving Yiddish traders coming out of Yidland
Every tool known to man was inside that metal
Dump truck, nail gun, a tea pot and kettle.
Yet alone he was not, as the zombie waves shattered
He had the help of a good William Shatner
With his phasers on high, no longer on stun
This Captain Kirk showed them how it got done
On the USS Enterprise, his former vessel
But it was destroyed in an intergalactary wrestle
So to public transportation he was no shipped
Somehow in the battle, his shirt seemed to get ripped
Though no zombie or man came within twenty feet
Perhaps from the strength of his own heartbeat.
I figure in white appeared from out of the blue
While others seemed clueless he seemed to know what to do
He had a long white cloak with a beard to match
But a figure emerged from the shadows, demanding a rematch
“Father Time, I challenge you!”
Said the ardent Mr. T. to the man in white whom he knew.
Mr. T was tricked in jewelry flashy and gold
and when he asked someone to something, they did as they were told
And for his fight with Father Time he needed not a weapon or a tool
When asked if his challenger stood a chance he had “Pitied the fool”
The old man had not even agreed to battle when he was hit on the head
A time rift had opened up, and the old man was left for dead
Before anyone knew what had transpired
A mysterious merchant emerged from the crowd, knowing what everyone desired
He came bearing knifes of finest steel
Which could help in cooking or preparing a meal
The man had appeared late at night on TV
And his knives were even better than they had hoped they would be
The people had forgotten completely about the rupture in time
They had decided to cut fruit with their knives for smoothies, but couldn’t pick between lemon and lime
The salesman had made many a sale
But he didn’t make any money on account of no price tags which makes his life story a tragic tale
For you see the salesman was not very well read
His luck was about to change for a leprechaun jumped out of his shoe and said
A cha cha che cha cho cha char cha che cha chi!!!
As the merchant of knives said in reply
What is this trickery and nonsense
That your mouth continues to commence?
The Irish fellow stated that he had cured the salesman of his condition
The salesman didn’t follow though and asked for a repetition
The small Irish fellow had granted the salesman the ability to read
The man was so happy that he gave the leprechaun anything he would need
There was only one thing the Irishman wanted to acquire
A knife so he could now cook meals for his sire
So this the salesman had granted the little one
The debt was repaid and a good dead had been done
And lastly, I saw, the last one in the group
A man who’d been silent, which through me for a loop
He looked rather normal, seemed to be quite
Ordinary, I knew something was not right
I screamed out at him “I know there’s something wrong with you.
You’re a were-zombie, zombie-wolf you’re one of the two”
But which one, I pondered, which was quite important
For were-zombies are slain by the horn of an elephant
But zombie-wolves, those are a different story
Those are only killed by the blade of a Tory.
Of these I had neither, and so this man-beast laughed
As the were-zombie zombie-wolf came, of his scent I got a waft
Into the corner of my seat I furiously dug
But the zombie-wolf were-zombie came over and ugggg….

Fin

Thought of the Whenever

Mon, 28 Jun 2004 00:48:20 GMT

While sitting upside down on a watertight pant, a thought enlightened me to a state of enlightenment that was so enlightening everything was really enlightened

When in doubt, spray it in the eyes with bactine

That wasnt the thought, but all that enlightenment kind of burned away 3/4s of my brain, leaving this tatooed on my skull

Old stories never die, they just keep getting reposted

Tue, 01 Jun 2004 03:09:46 GMT

Due to a butterfly flapping its wings in China, Obesius returns again!

Obesius was the Greek god of fast food. He was the son of Mashbovinius, the god of ground beef, and Slycibrad, the goddess of buns. He was hated by all the other gods because he was large and unsightly, which is just a euphemism for ugly. His parents began to lose worshippers because of Obesius, and so sent him to the unexplored lands of Ahmerikah. The natives scorned him, and he fell asleep in a cave after eating most of the buffalo. Then, people from many nations traveled to this foreign land, awakening the giant god.
He began his reign with a man known as McDonnalidia. He later became well known for owning a farm and singing random vowels in his old age. Obesius came to him in a vision, and told him the secret of his great size. He taught McDonnalidia to take ground beef from the temple of his father, shape it into cylinders, grill them with an immense amount of fat, then place them on cheap, paper-thin buns. These greasy foods would be called hamburgers, and would be sold in dirty establishments. Obesius told McDonnalidia to not care about quality or improving his product at all; the people would not care about the grease.
McDonnalidia was greatly troubled by this vision, and had many questions. Where would he get the supplies? Why would people actually buy such dirty, greasy food? Why were they called hamburgers if they were made with beef! He wanted to ask an oracle of Apollo, but Madame Cleo charged way too much. Nonetheless, McDonnalidia was afraid of the great size of Obesius, and did what he said.
Time passed on, and McDonnalidia finally finished the first establishment. It was to be called McDonnalidia' s, but money was tight and the painter charged by the letter. Thus, the first McDonald's opened in the land of Ahmerikah. The people flocked to this new place to eat. The hamburgers were quickly eaten, so McDonnalidia was taught how to create the "ham" burgers hours before they would be eaten. When it came time to hire workers, McDonnalidia hired the least qualified of people so that no one would realize how big of a scam it was. Obesius was pleased by these worshippers, and so taught McDonnalidia how to make the fries of Frannches, the god of grease.
The people continued to eat at McDonald's, and no one noticed how fat the people of Ahmerikah were becoming. The first one to notice was the worker at the chariot-thru window, who said to him while switching orders, "Man, people are really fat! " McDonnalidia, realizing the dangers of high cholesterol, confronted Obesius. They had a long business discussion, which is a euphemism for argument. In the end, Obesius lost all his stock options and Obesius had a son jump out of his gut. He didn't bother to name his son, simply titling him the King of Burgers.
He gave his son the gift of the Whopperinian, which were 2 "ham" burgers stacked on top of each other, buns and all. The King of Burgers, more commonly known as the Burger King, wondered if anything so obvious could be sold. Alas, the Ahmerikans bought like there was no tomorrow, and Obesius was pleased. McDonnalidia, noticing the danger of competition in a capitalistic society, agreed to rejoin Obesius. Over time, Obesius had many more children, including Wendia, the great Bell of Tacos, and many smaller, more regional gods. Ahmerikah, it seemed, was doomed to high cholesterol and obesity.
This is where the other gods are supposed to intervene, creating a great war with many heroes and prophets. Alas, I could not go over the word limit. Thus Ahmerikah is left fat.

This is not a bit satirical. NOT AT ALL!

Fact of the Day

Fri, 21 May 2004 02:46:06 GMT

The pirates, due to the randomness of their postages (you can never find a decent stamp seller on the seas) the pirates are gonna start putting up their inspirational facts of the whenever (for those not blessed to be in those rare locations where they're originally written)

Number 1

If a tree falls in the forest, and it hits a mime, and while falling the mime's silenced revolver discharges and hits a deaf woodchuck, exactly 3 birds will sing.

Number 333 and 1/3

No bird flies too high, if it flies with silver nitrate powered rocket engines and has ozone breathing bio-lungs, and then it will destroy us all with its ultrablue supersonic screech!

Number (-1)^0.5

The sound of one hand clapping is the sound of a Buddhist monk knocking out a Confuscian with a rotted 2x4 that explodes into a cloud of burrowing fire ants that make both douse themselves with ancient spring water and sing odes to lost sheep

That One Great Battle

Sat, 20 Mar 2004 03:34:19 GMT

Today, I will bring to you the tale of one of the bloodiest battles to grace the waters of the Midwest...Yes, I am speaking of that great battle on the River of Foxes many a day ago. That fateful day that would go down in history as that day that some stuff happenned, but since all of the historians were killed in a suicidal charge, I am the only literate person who truly knows what happenned that day. (By the way, the charge of a historians wasn't completely useless. Never underestimate the power of a history textbook thats attempted to be thrown by some eighty year old skinny fuck...OK, underestimate it, but you'll be sorry) So I shall relate to you all what really happenned at badadadadadadadaCrashCrashduhdadihduhdadihduthumpathumpa RAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!

...

Sorry bout that, got caught up in my drum solo

Oh yeah, THE SLAUGHTER OF EVERYONE WHO OPPOSED THE STEAMBOAT PIRATES AND THE MERCILESS TICKLING OF THAT 5% OF PEOPLE THAT ALWAYS ANSWER DON'T KNOW ON EVERY SINGLE SURVEY! The events leading to this day were tragic, strange and possibly funny, if you like that sorta thing. It all started at the border beween Yidland and Flemlandia...The pirates were having a grand old time, playing loud music, starting fires, and using combinations of Yiddish Submarines and Flemish Ultra-timepieces to make underwater time bombs...So the villagers were getting pissed at these whippersnappers, so the decide to go do something! Yeah! Hey, isn't this the thing governments for? Dealing with big problems ordinary people can't do on their own! Great Idea! So they went to the Council of Elders to put a stop to this menace. They died of old age, waiting for the Council to decide whether they should have chocolate or glazed donuts at the meetings...But anyway, there was suddenly a worldwide drought. Theories on the cause are varied, but it is known that a dyslexic going by Hewyah was seen flying around the stratosphere with a giant straw. So, obviously, in this time of trouble, the people of the giant plain of the Midwest would all band together to form a coalition to get the world's biggest jar of water-there's something with this flatland that makes people want the best something-You know what I'm talking about, maybe it's genetic...Anyway, they all meet in Minnesota, at that place where the Mississippi starts, and they put a giant bucket that some guy had in his basement there, and it fills up, and its big. So it falls, flooding all of Minnesota...Big loss of some ski lodges and nothing else. Anyway, the Pirates come sailing into the Fox River in a crazy smuggling attempt. Their cargo-Millions of hairless chihuahas
The reason for the cargo-They were gonna say they could be smoked to get some wicked hallucinations, then bolt out before anyone realized they'd been duped. Unfortunately, the dogs actually did cause hallucinations-and nothing is more persistent then someone addicted to Mexican dogs-So the pirates were racing them in, but they couldn't get them in fast enough. Finally, the parents of the coastliners, having to pay billions for food when they're kids suffered from withdrawal, and realizing that they need to protect their kids from all problems and that they would live perfect lives then, declare war on our Honorable Pirates. Well, the pirates decide to try to sneak into the port, but steamboats aren't very sneaky, even with a silencer installed. So by the time they were in the dock, the villagers had all assembled, armed with rakes and fishing lanterns (the store was outta torches and pitchforks, they shoulda bought em when they were on sale) and their leader, a skinny old-ass fuck, said "Well, um, guys, we, uh, were Ach, Cough, Gurgle Death" He didn't really want to say that last part, but that's the natural reaction when a victim is impaled on the malevolent metal manufactered meat picker-upper known as The fork of Stubs! Yes, the blinded amputee was one of the fiercest fighters to ever see the seas, or sea the sees. With his sharpened fork and multi-use Yiddish army knife, he downed many a foe. He'd parry a blade away, then out would shoot a grappling hook through the guys throat, then use a zipwire to get to a foe and beat him with a barometer...And the Captain...I mean, do I really need to go into his amazing skill...Ill just say his blade got many notches that day...But if the Captain put a notch for every foe killed, his blade would be worn away to nothing. I must remark, though, how he led the charge with a valiant yell of his warcry and a flaling of his arms. I can still hear the cries of "Octopus, Octopus" crashing against the sky. I didn't really get...but it messed with our enemies mind. And there was the loveable fatass Anchor, crushing foes with his rolling...Yeah, he died. We didn't like him very much. It is rumored that he was betrayed...Actually it wasn't a rumor, it was fact-He was hanged for stealing enough food to drown a whale. Well, in this battle, many pirates were made, especially when several villagers realized the great morality and value of pirates to society. So, the pirates killed all the pussy baby boomers (not the non-pussy ones, cause there's punks in every generation) and the world was a perfect place. Except for one thing THE PIRATES LEFT THE STOVE ON!!! They returned to find...well, eveything the same. The truth is, if you leave the stove on, the consequence is your gas bill is a bitch. OK? No explosion. THe moral-Obey your inner demon
Until next time-The Jenius, signing out!

Waka Waka Waka

Thu, 19 Feb 2004 03:31:16 GMT

Bum Bum Bum Bum, Du Du Dud Dee Dah Duh Do (theme song) Episode V- The Hobos Strike Back-Do I really need to do this long writing that no one can read-if you don't know the story, you can walk the plank. Today, we will address the issue of the kangaroo. I say it never existed, that we had all been eatin too much of those special biscuits, but I could be wrong. Like that time I said that nothing would happen would eat food off the deck. The poor laddie was never the same again. Always wondered how he could hear with his fifth ear...Ahh well. I'll tell what I've heard-and I heard a lot. It came aboard one day when we were pillagin some big island. We didn't really care, we were havin fun pretending we were gods to the natives. I guess it was kinda the Cap'ns pet, and he made tons of money off it. I think I said this before, but fer ye idiots with ADDHSQR whatever, I'll tell it again. The Cap'n would be like, hey bet this kangaroo can swim next to the boat for a half hour, and you'd think "This boats goin pretty fast, and kangaroos can't swim" so your like, fine here's 20 bucks, and he sets it on fire. Then the kangaroo jumps into the water and yhou're like-SCORE he's dead. So you go and after like 44 minutes your like sorry bout yur kangaroo, and he blows on his magic bagpipes,and it doesn't make any noise, and your like, dude, your kangaroo died and your bagpipes broken, today must suck. Then, you feel it. A dull pain in yuor abdomen. Growing and Growing. Faster and Faster. It's getting difficult to breath. You're sweating. You suddenly fall unconcoius. Yu have a pulse but no breathing. What does the Cap'n do? Well, he watches the kangaroo burst out of your stoumach and laughs at your stupid corpse. Then he takes your wallet and uses your library card to steal books. This kangaroo, it cheated at cards too. I saw it with me own eyes. Or I didn't see. Anyway, he had a queen, nine, two, five, and six, and suddenly, he takes out a sharpie and writes over them so he has a royal flush. And if you have a royal flush he'll write over it so its crap in a hat. He'll literally write that on the cards. And nobody cared. I think its cause he was a different species. The French musk oxen holding knives to their throat might have had something to do with it too. Well, I believ that settles the kangaroo. Post Comments where it says Post Comment with more questions, or add your e-mail to recieve updation notimications. YAAAR!

The Jenius

Update Soon!

Sun, 15 Feb 2004 17:35:28 GMT

The second episode of the Steamboat Pirates is nearing finishment, and will porbly be put up tommorow. If ye wants te get a message from the pirates when it's updatered, post a comment with yer e-mail where it says post comments, damnit. YAAARRRRGH

Whachu doin in my house?

Fri, 06 Feb 2004 23:18:38 GMT

So, ye wants tah hear of the legendary steamboat pirates, do yah? Well, I'll tell yah the story, cause I was THERE. I saw it all, the really good times and the really crappy times. And there were crappy times. Evryone now thinks that bein a steamboat pirate was all fun and games, time traveling, plundering, and blah blah blah, but it wasn't always like that. Fer example, once a week someone would have to shovel the poop deck. And you'd have to miss the Thursday Night All Night Bingo and you wouldn't feel to good for the Friday Morning Soiling of the Poop Deck Again Cuz We Pirates Hate Clean. Damn they were messy. Tried to teach them, piss belongs in the ocean, crap belongs in some idiots face. They just wouldn't listen... Anyway, someone would say it smelled like crap and then someone would ask whose turn it was to clean the fuckin poop deck and that person would be given a bulldozer and told to go at it. Usually, they just stopped complainin, but if they actually did clean it up, the crew would retaliate with the Early Friday Afternoon Taking Seven Laxatives and Making a Bigger Pile of Crap on the Poop Deck Cuz We Hate Smartass Overachievers Even More Than We Hate Clean. Well, anyway, this continued for years, cuz after the first 40 times, you kinda realize they aren't gonna listen to you're cries when you're being eaten alive by the toxic fumes that 300 X-Laxes create. Then someone got the great idea of making a time machine to stop this madness. I can't remember exactly who, but I think it might have been the singing and dancing penguin with a PhD in Time Machines. Or it might of been that one guy, with the beard. Anyway, everything turned out fine. Well, the Steamboat Pirates were a rough gang, always ritualisticly sacrificing someone in some bizarre ritual to some bizarre Steamboat God. His name could not be uttered, but I think it was something like Marked Wane. He supposedly inspired the Original Band of Steamboat Pirates, so they created a paganistic religion for him. Anyway, they were all led by the Cap'n. Nobody knew his last name, he was simply the Cap'n. He was a multi-layered man-and I say that literally. Like, you'd see him walking around, and you'd be like, "Wait a second, The Cap'n's really Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite!" Then he'd look at you, cause whenever you thought something like that, a tiny psychic rhinoceros that lived in his left ear told him, and then he'd peel off his full body costume and he'd be someone completely different, and so you never really could tell who was the Cap'n. Secrecy, that was his motto. Secret like a tapeworm. Some people say that we keep killing our Cap'n and abducting a random gy at the next dock, but that's balderdash. I can see it in his ears-they always seem the same. Unless they're different. And then I'm crazy. His first mate was a great man, a great man indeed. He went by Stubs, but I don't know why. He had a life full of adventure. When he was 17, he got both his legs bit off by a genetically mutated koala bear. Sad thing is, he was pretty out of it when it happened (You see, he had been stranded in the jungles of Cambodia, and he found a farm, and he started eating the weeds he found growing there, and you can guess what happenned)so he never realized they were gone. Every day, still puts on his socks and his knee high galoshes. He loved his galoshes. They were pretty hard to put on though, seein that he didn't have any hands. Yah see, he was out minigolfing, yah know? And he makes a perfect putt, straight through the windmill, yah see? But then the ball doesn't come out the other end. So he geets pissed and hobbles over to the windmill and sticks his arm up there...and it gets stuck. Then he starts screamin, cuz the windmill is really a giant mutated Venus Flytrap thats eatin his arms away with sulfuric acid! He eventually managed to kill it, but his arms were all shriveled bits of felsh aand it smelled really bad and so he just said "Might as well replace one with a fork and one with a Yiddish Army knife." So he did. That Yiddish Army Knife...Had to get it shipped from Yiddland. Well, I swear it had every single fuckin tool known to man. It weighed like 3000 tons, but you'd be like "Man, I really wish I had a dump truck" and then ZABOOM there was a portable dump truck. Actually, It'd take Stubs a while to find it cuz he was blind in both eyes. Yah see, he and his pals were hitting each other with big sticks they had found on shore, and some bitch is like "You'll poke an eye out!" and he's like "Fuck Off" so she promptly pulled out a blowgun and shot a 6 inch dart into each eye. I think he learned his lesson. Never picked up a stick again. Well, I'm gettin lazy, so go the fuck away! And tune in for the next episode!

The Jenius