Renegade Ranger to the Rescue! (An even more best damn Power Ranger fanfiction ever written!)

Power Rangers: Super Multiverse

Due to popular demand, I am writing another Power Ranger fanfiction set in the multiverse I originally setup. Because the last one I wrote was the absolute best Power Ranger…hell, the best fanfiction of anything…ever written, I swore I wouldn’t write another. However, after all the praise and uncountable death threats I’ve received for not continuing, I feel obligated to do so.

Angel Bay Crest Grove was under constant attack by Evildron and the Rangers weren’t getting much sleep. Every time the Rangers knocked down one monster, another one almost immediately took its place. Sure Evildron had been phoning the monsters in lately, as they were extremely easy to destroy, but the sheer volume of them was now taking its toll. If the Rangers didn’t get help or rest soon, they would die from exhaustion long before the town would remain safe.

“Oh, man! I just want some sueño! A nice little siesta for fifteen minutes!” Carlos screamed as the latest monster exploded. For once, the giant explosion didn’t kill anyone, since most of this area of the city was completely abandoned thanks to both people fleeing and so many people dying during other monster attacks.

“I know what you mean,” Jen agreed, “A nice fall in bed is all I can think about…Hell, I’m not even thinking of using it for sex, just sleep!”

“Damn, you are tired!” Tommy exclaimed, yawning under his helmet.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m done. I’m out. I’m not doing this again. Let the monster attack the fucking city for a few hours. I’m going to bed!” Dustin stated and jumped out of the Megazord. The moment his feet hit the ground, he de-morphed and began running home.

“What a dipshit,” Sky stated as they all left the Megazord as well and de-morphed, “He could have just teleported home. Guess he really is tired as hell.”

“Rangers!” Zordon’s voice cracked over the speaker on their communicators. With a deep sigh, Tommy answered the call.

“No, Zordon, we don’t give a shit if there is another monster attacking the city. Most of this place is trashed and abandoned. We’re getting some sleep!” Tommy shouted. Sky gave Tommy a high-five for being so god damn cool and saying exactly what everyone else was thinking.

“Of course, Tommy,” Zordon said. He knew better than to mouth off to Tommy. Zordon continued, “You get some sleep. I just wanted to let you know I am working on getting you some help.”

“About time, Zordon!” Jen clapped happily, “If you manage to do that, I’ll let you plug into Alpha 5 and slut you up a bit!”

“That would be wonderful!” Alpha’s voice shouted in the background, “We’ll be sure to get you that help!” The communicator went silent and everyone sighed with relief. They agreed to meet back up after a few hours of rest and wouldn’t answer their communicators no matter what.

Meanwhile, with the bad guys…
Deep inside Evildron’s layer he was busy creating his newest, and most powerful, monster ever. Neither the R.A.P.E.B.O.T. nor the M.O.T.H.E.R.F.U.C.K.E.R. had anything on this monster. Given how tired the Rangers were now, they could never hope to destroy this one given how advanced it was. If the R.A.P.E.B.O.T. was a monster design the Rangers had never faced before and the M.O.T.H.E.R.F.U.C.K.E.R. was a speed they had never faced before, this was not only a combination of the two, but it also had power. Evildron learned from his failures, which is a dangerous attribute for a villain.

“Evildron?!” Sloan called out to his master.

“Damn it! What is it, Sloan?!” Evildron screamed over his shoulder, having been startled after sitting in near silence for so long. Rushing into the building room of the lair, still lit by unnecessary candles scattered around for aroma therapy, Sloan rushed up to Evildron, almost out of breath. Sloan had taken Evildron’s habit of not taking many showers, so the candles helped with his smell. Evildron didn’t need many baths, since he didn’t actually sweat, but Sloan was beginning to become rather ripe. Instead of washing, Sloan believed Febreeze and deodorant was actually enough.

“Oh, for the love of god, man, take a shower!” Evildron commented, plugging his nose.

“But…I just did…” Sloan whined, opening his shirt and sniffing at his chest.

“Then take ten more! What do you want?!” Evildron asked, pushing Sloan back.

“Um…you sent me a text message on our two way pager and said you wanted to see me…” Sloan explained, looking down at the ground.

“Of course I did!” Evildron yelled, startling Sloan, “I want you to see as the newest, fastest, and most powerful monster I’ve ever made is finished!” Sloan’s eyes lit up with excitement and he pumped his fist a few time.

“I am so pumped up! Please let me see it!” Sloan begged, rushing over to the darkened bay where they kept the creations as they were being finished. Evildron reached over to his keyboard, entered the last few commands and slowly walked over to Sloan.

“As you know, we’ve been exhausting the Rangers to the point of…well…exhaustion. I have taken cues from our past two ultimate creations and made…uh…well…the ultimate creation!” Evildron said excitedly, slapping Sloan on the back, “Do the honors and hit the lights!” Sloan let out of a school girl like squeal of excitement as he reached over and flipped the large handle into the “on” position.

As the power ran through the lines, several lights turned on with a booming noise, revealing the ultimate creation Evildron had just finished. Taller than any other monster Evildron had created, it also had a form unlike any other monster used before. Sloan’s mouth gaped open as he stared up at it.

“Pretty impressive, eh?” Evildron asked, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.

“It’s…a…it’s…oh my god…it looks like a blow up doll!” Sloan stated, his voice cracking a few times as he said the words, his throat drying up. Sure enough, the monster stood in humanoid shape with wide eyes and a very open, almost surprised, “O” mouth complete with bright red lips. The outward appearance was female, and it even had the shape of breasts, but no nipples. There was no obvious hole where the vagina or sphincter would be, however.

“Duh!” Evildron spat, “This is the best form for fighting another humanoid with the weapon I’ve equipped it with!” Evildron continued to smile up at his creation while Sloan remained speechless for a few moments.

“What do you call this one, then?” Sloan cautiously asked.

“Keep up now, Sloan. This is the Battalion Leveling, Optimized Weapon, Juggernaut: Oversied Bot! The B, L, O, W…J….O…..B,” Evildron stated, saying the last three letters slower than the previous. Evildron’s hands were slowly rubbing up his waist to his chest.

“Bl…blow job?!” Sloan hoarsely exclaimed, feeling so weak in his knees he actually had to squat down.

“Blow job,” Evildron said in a very slow, satisfied tone as he twisted his nipples. Sloan fell back on his own ass at this point, not exactly sure what to do. He couldn’t speak and his mind was going a mile a minute. Still rubbing his nipples, Evildron looked down at Sloan and raised his eyebrows rapidly a few times while smiling that epic eagle smile.

“This bad bitch has such a powerful weapon, one hit to that Megazord will destroy it!” Evildron said and pointed up at his creation, “Right there in the mouth is where I have it. Unlike the R.A.P.E.B.O.T. there are no ball to give a vasectomy to. Also, the M.O.T.H.E.R.F.U.C.K.E.R. had a problem in its logistics programming. I’ve corrected both issues with this design!” Sloan remained silent, his eyes huge and his mouth trying to form words, but not finding them. With a sigh, Evildron, pulled Sloan to his feet.

“Give the monster some attention, will you? I’m sure it’s feeling neglected,” Evildron instructed Sloan, “Pay special attention to the whole breast. I left the nipples out on purpose!”

Inside the Ranger’s Command Center
“Aye, yi, yi, yiiiiii!” Alpha whined out to Zordon.

“Relax, Alpha 5! I’m sure he got our message,” Zordon told Alpha, who was doing his stupid little robot panic dance.

“I sure hope so, Zordon. The Rangers are too exhausted to keep fighting today!” Alpha cried like a little bitch just as a notification beep began to sound out.

“You got our message!” Zordon said excitedly as Alpha answered the call.

“Yeah, I’m here Zordon. I would have messaged sooner, but I was in the middle of a fine ass bitch,” a voice rang out over the speakers, “So I take it your Rangers are too big of pussies to be able to handle this without my help?”

“Sadly, yes,” Zordon reluctantly admitted, “Without your help, I’m afraid Evildron will kill my Rangers, destroy what’s left of the city, and then soon take over the rest of the world!”

“That’s your worry!” the voice replied laughing, “Even if your Rangers were destroyed, I’d still be able to take Evildron out myself. The only reason I don’t do it right now is because it cuts into my bitches time.”

“Fair enough,” Zordon agreed, “Even still, would you please help us? If my Rangers are destroyed you’ll be taking care of it yourself and that will really cut into your bitches time.” There was a few moments of silence as Zordon’s words sank in. Zordon was speaking the truth, too. The Rangers were the only ones keeping Evildron at bay for now. As crazy and evil as Evildron was, he had O.C.D. and couldn’t multitask very well so he kept focusing almost his entire effort on Angel Bay Crest Grove.

“You would put it like that, wouldn’t you? Damn disembodied head…” the voice said, “Okay, expect me there in about five minutes.”

“Aye, yi, yi, yiiiiii! This is great news, Zordon!” Alpha said happily as he did his happy robot dance.

“Yes, Alpha 5, this will help us considerably to have a green ranger. Now, please focus in on the Rangers with the viewing globe so I can potentially perv on them,” Zordon instructed. Alpha did as he was told, tuning the viewing globe into the Rangers, who were all hanging out at the Angel Bay Crest Grove Booze and Juice Bar.

“At least there have been no monster attacks on the city. A nice seventeen hour sleep is what I needed,” Sky stated, double fisting whiskey sour.

“Yeah, you know I actually ran six miles home forgetting I could teleport?” Dustin asked, daintily sipping on a clear diet cola, “That’s how tired I actually was!” Reaching over, Tommy punched Dustin right in his face, forcing him to spill his drink.

“That’s what you get for being such a little bitch, bitch!” Tommy shouted as Dustin pulled himself back in his chair. Dustin gave Tommy a high-five for putting him in his place because he knew Tommy was right…and so damn cool.

“All I know is I’ve never spent so long in bed without someone else in there with me,” Jen said, finishing off her sixth glass of wine, “I mean, I went three hours before getting myself filled!” Sky didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he just stared at her wide eyed and his mouth open slightly before slowly putting another drink to his lips.

“I was all wrapped up in the sheets like a bean burrito. It was bueño,” Carlos stated with pride, tipping back a full bottle of tequila, “After I got down with Jen, anyway.” Sky was so surprise with the sudden confession from Carlos he actually shot whiskey sour out of his nose, causing him to groan in pain.

“Something wrong, Sky?” Tommy asked, confused since he was sure they had all tapped Jen at one point or another.

“No…not at all!” Sky stammered and then ran to the bar to get another drink. Suddenly a presence so heavy and noticeable washed over them, causing them to look toward the door. The happily yelling of women and a bad ass rock song began to fill the room as the presence got closer.

“Holy…fucking…shit… No…way…” Tommy said quietly. The voices and music got louder until finally the cause of it all entered into the room.

“Oh my god!” Dustin screamed. Jen sat transfixed at the sight before her. She was completely mesmorized and couldn’t take her eyes off the new guy. He was wearing wrap around black sun glasses, tight black jeans, a dark green shirt with a black leather jacket on top of it with a single dark green stripe running down the left side with a dark green “#1” on the right side, and his dark brown hair was slicked back in the coolest way possible. As he stood there, women were desperately trying to cling tighter to him, but his face just said, “These bitches want me, no shit, and I still don’t give a fuck.”

“Who’s he?!” Jen asked, rubbing herself under the table.

“The only person cooler than Tommy…Ziggy Grover!” Sky said getting back to the group and collapsed into his chair, “This is who Zordon got to help us?! He’s practically a Ranger GOD!” Tommy turned back to the table and slammed his fists down on the table as hard as he could, cracking it the entire length.

“Damn it!” Tommy muttered under his breath. Ziggy looked around, threw his arms out to the side and every woman and the music went quiet. Seeing the other Rangers, he pointed to the ground indicated for the women following him to remain where they were and began to groove over to the Rangers’ table.

“So you’re Zordon’s Rangers, huh? No wonder he needs my help,” Ziggy stated, snapping the sunglasses off his face, closing them and storing them inside his leather jacket. Jen jumped up from her chair and fell to his legs. She began rubbing his legs up and down while looking up at him like a begging puppy.

“Hi! I’m Jen!!!” she exclaimed, nuzzling his legs with her cheek.

“Of course you are,” Ziggy said, not trying to remove her. Jen just giggled and began kissing from his calf to his outer thigh repeatedly.

“Yeah, and you must be Doctor K’s Ranger,” Tommy replied snarkily without even turning around.

“Actually, I renamed her Doctor C, as in Doctor Can’t Take Anymore of this Dick Because I Wore The Bitch Out,” Ziggy explained, “So, you must be Tommy. The legend himself…disappointing.” Tommy flipped the table out of anger over how much cooler Ziggy was than himself. Folding his arms, Tommy began to sulk and shut his mouth.

“It’s an honor, amigo!” Carlos said, giving Ziggy a high-five while looking at Tommy in shame wondering how he ever found Tommy cool to begin with.

“It’s going to be nice having some help!’ Dustin said. Ziggy glared over at Dustin before kicking him in the chest, knocking him over two tables.

“Let’s get something straight, maggots: I am not here to help. I am the solution to your problem and then I’m gone. Don’t get in my fucking way and I won’t have to unblock you like a hair clog in a sink. Got it?” Ziggy asked. Jen giggled again and began to massage on Ziggy’s ass with joy. Sky said nothing and simply nodded.

“Understood…” Tommy whispered. Suddenly their communicators sprang to life as Zordon’s voice erupted through in a panic.

“Rangers! We have a serious problem! Evildron’s greatest creation to date is attacking! We need you!” Zordon exclaimed in more of a fit than they had ever heard.

“Don’t worry about it, Zordon,” Ziggy replied, “I’m here and I’ll stop this problem in about ten seconds.” Jen reached up and began to work Ziggy’s penis in his pants, but Ziggy stopped her. “You get to touch it when I allow you to,” Ziggy informed Jen as he forcefully pulled her off him. Reaching toward the sky and snapping his fingers, a bad ass beat began to play as Ziggy stepped back, causing the women to start screaming excitedly once again.

“Let’s do this shit!” Ziggy shouted and performed his morphing choreography, “Get in mother fucking gear!” In a green flash, complete with a massive explosion behind him, which unfortunately killed fifteen, maybe twenty, of the women who had been following him, Ziggy was now morphed into the most powerful Ranger of this universe. Giving the rest of the Rangers the middle finger, Ziggy teleported away to the fight.

“Fuck…he is cool,” Tommy said with a sigh as he faced palmed in shame.

At the area of attack…
“Wow, it is getting really hard to find somewhere to destroy and while killing people around here anymore…” Evildron said to himself, riding on the shoulder of the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. through the old downtown, “Maybe I should have held back a little…”

“Evildron! Evildron!” Sloan’s voice crackled over the dollar store two-way radio they stole in order to contact each other, “A Ranger is headed your way! Maybe you should get off the…the…”

“It’s the B.L.O.W.J.O.B, Sloan. Say it right or don’t say it at all!” Evildron firmly told Sloan, “Who cares if it’s just one Ranger, anyway?” Evildron cracked his knuckles and looked around at the mostly destroyed city. A small bit of sadness came over him, not for the loss of life or destruction in of itself, but the fact he wouldn’t have much to take over if he kept destroying everything. He made a note to himself to stop powering his creations with a highly explosive compound which also turned into a potentially fatal miasma.

“But…but…but…” Sloan stammered. It was too late, however, as Evildron saw exactly who was heading his way. Shrieking like a frightened eagle, Evildron jumped off and teleported to safety. Ziggy was inside the most epic, amazing, and just plain cool looking single Megazord anyone has ever seen, known as the Ultimate Battlezord, and he was hauling ass faster than any of the other Rangers could ever hope for.

“What the fuck?!” Ziggy shouted to himself as he got closer to Evildron’s creation, “Is that what I think it is?!” Leaning back, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. began to charge the weapon, but Ziggy saw it coming and dodged to the side just as the laser blasted past him. The exact moment the laser was coming to a finish, Ziggy jumped into the air and slammed a kick directly into the breast area of the creature, forcing it to stagger backwards, rubbing its chest.

“Titty fucker!” Evildron screamed, grabbing Sloan by the back of the neck and pointing to the fight, “Did you see that?! That is just rude!” Sloan just whined and groaned as he was forced to watch in the tight grip of Evildron’s hand.

“We’re here to help!” Ziggy heard Dustin’s voice ring out over his speakers.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep it busy while you destroy it!” Tommy said as their Megazord rushed up to the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. and kneed it right in the face with a sick ass jumping knee strike. You know, like the one you can do in Double Dragon: Advanced on the Gameboy Advanced. That game was fucking awesome! Yeah, that type of flying knee attack. This caused the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. to fall to the ground backwards.

“Yeah, bitch! Who’s fucking who, now?!” Sky screamed. The Megazord then began to teabag the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. rapidly while Carlos sang, “Dip, dip, potato chip!”

“Get off of it!” Ziggy screamed as he saw the creature begin to charge up its weapon. The Megazord sat directly on the creature’s face looking toward Ziggy’s Ultimate Battlezord.

“Why? We’ve got our finger on the pussy trigger in this fight!” Jen giggled over the headset.

“What’s that sound?” Carlos asked, looking down at the floor. Before anyone could answer, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. let loose its weapon and forced the Megazord up into the air, legs spread, as if it were riding a long, red, never ending dildo into the air.

“You dumb, bitch! The only trigger you understand is the one on your vibrator!” Ziggy shouted to the other Rangers as he heard them screaming as they flew higher and higher into the air. When the laser came to an end, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. spread its legs wide, propped itself, and stood up in a battle stance. In a streak (do you see what I did there?), the creature was upon the Ultimate Battlezord and kicked it across town and over a mountain.

“Look, Sloan, look!” Evildron shouted happily, jerking Sloan around by the neck haphazardly, “Not even the Ranger god, Ziggy, is standing a chance! This is the ultimate creation!” Sloan was desperately trying to get Evildron to let go of him, but was having no luck doing so.

“Mother…fucker…” Ziggy said to himself as he stood his zord back up, “No more dicking around. I have bitches to get back to. Ultimate God Slayer!” With both hands out to the side, a powerful energy began to swirl around the hands of Ziggy’s Ultimate Battlezord. Thinking it saw a chance, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. rushed toward its enemy at break neck speed while charging up another shot.

“Imma firin’ mah lazor!” the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. screamed and let loose the blast. A blinding flash which could rival that of being at the center of a star exploding spread for hundreds of miles around. Thinking Ziggy was destroyed, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. let down its guard and stood straight up with pride. As the blinding light faded and the dust dissipated, the Ultimate Battlezord was still standing, both hands out in front of itself, now holding two of the most awesome looking swords ever, glowing in a powerful green energy.

“Suck on this one,” Ziggy said calmly. Before it could even react, the B.L.O.W.J.O.B. was cut one thousand times in less than a second, causing it to explode while screaming in pain. Lucky for the Megazord, which was now falling to the ground at an unstoppable speed, the force of the explosion was so great, it created enough cushion of compacted air to slow it down and not be destroyed. The Ultimate Battlezord just stood in an even more badass “I don’t give a fuck!” stance than the Megazord ever could as this all happened.

“NO!” Evildron screamed, throwing Sloan to the ground, “NO! What the fuck?! I need a vacation!” Sloan looked up at Evildron and grabbed hold of his leg fast enough to be teleported away with him. Slowly the Megazord stood and the Ultimate Battlezord powered down.

“That…was…awesome!” Dustin screamed and clapped his hands together.

“Yeah…he’s fucking cool…cooler than me…” Tommy admitted out loud.

Evildron was pacing around and throwing whatever he could get his hands on against the wall in his lair.

“Damn it! Another creature destroyed!” Evildron screamed, kicking a door off the hinges, “You know what? I’m going on vacation!”

“Does that mean..?” Sloan asked.

“If you think it means you get time off, then you’re wrong!” Evildron said, calming down a bit and falling into his recliner, “You’re going to stay here and build me another creature. Let’s see what you can do.”

“Oh…okay…I guess I can do that…” Sloan said, sitting across from Evildron and turning on the TV.

“I’m thinking something along the lines of a Fully Upgraded, Controlled Kinetic, Digitally Operated Lethal Lackey,” Evildron said, folding his arms over his chest and focusing on the TV, now reporting his latest failure.

“F…u… Fuck doll?” Sloan asked, looking out of the corner of his eye toward Evildron.

“Fuck doll!” Evildron said happily while clapping and pointing with both hands at Sloan.

There you go! That’s even more of a best damn Power Ranger fanfiction than Evildron’s Master Plan is!

With how great this is, please stop threatening to kill me if I don’t write anymore. This has got to tie you over for at least another ten years it’s so good!

Good Friday is a tough day for me…

Hellster Bunny!
Every Good Friday seems to be terrible. There’s a bit of a curse with my family that each Easter someone in the family passes away. Then there’s the guarantee someone will ruin my Good Friday when someone in my family DOESN’T die.

Case in point:
Back in 2002 I was dating a veterinarian assistant. She worked at a vet hospital and was always on call for emergencies. Well, that Good Friday, at around three in the morning, she gets an emergency call telling her to come in. Since she was staying over with me, I was now awake and didn’t have to work, I decided I’d just drive her in.

As people may know from my writings, I am not a morning person…more so, I just don’t like waking up. So, even though I was driving her in, I was severely annoyed to have been woken up at 3AM on my day off.

We arrive after a short drive and she rushes in. A lady had let her little toy poodle out to use the restroom and didn’t notice the back gate had swung open. The dog ran out of the back yard and, according to the owner, was hit by a drunk driver. I don’t know if the driver was drunk or not, but given the size of this poodle (about the size of a large pug), I doubt anyone would have seen it at night in this area, anyway.

Seeing as I had nothing to do, I got the “privilege” of sitting with this lady for hours, listening to her go on and on about the dog, while my girlfriend and the surgeon worked on this dog. When seven in the morning rolled around and I saw the main vet come walking out, I knew the dog didn’t make. She went on to tell the lady they did all they could, but the dog had lost too much blood and was beyond saving.

Obviously the lady starts crying more, gets some hugs, and then sighs deeply. She looks at me and says, “I guess I could take solace in the fact he’s in Heaven now with Jesus…on the same day Jesus died…”

“Sure,” I tell her, “But I bet you twenty quid he won’t be back on Monday.”

What happened to Malaysia Flight 370 solved!

It’s been some time since the Malaysian Flight 370 went dark. There had been all kinds of conspiracy theories running wild, but now, finally now, we know what happened. It wasn’t easy to get the info with all the cover ups and incompetency going on, but we now know the truth. Still, the truth is hard to accept and follow. Everything now has changed, and the world will never be the same.

We do well to remember the words of the fictional, and yet influential, character known as Sherlock Holmes: “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” Everyone does well keeping that in mind with the mystery now being solved.

As crazy as it may seem, Malaysia Flight 370 encountered not one, but two problems leading up to their final, tragic, fate. From the start, two passengers used fake passports in hopes of hijacking the plane to use in a future terror plot. The plan was to steal the plane, under funding of a Chinese (not Islamic) terrorist group, land the plane in one of the many old Cambodian airports no longer in use, kill all the passengers except the 20 employees of the company Freescale Semiconductor, and then use the technology those employees have been developing to cloak the plane to detonate a nuclear bomb above the United States.

Then there’s the issue with the plane turning into a random direction. The lead pilot, Capt. Zaharie Ahmad Shah, and first officer (co-pilot), Fariq Ab Hamid, were heading to their flight ceiling when a problem arose with the aircraft, before the two terrorists could activate their plan. A small hole in the plane caused a dramatic loss of cabin pressure, resulting in hypoxia with everyone on board. The passengers began to pass out, unable to answer their cell phones, and drastic measures needed to be taken. With severe hypoxia rapidly setting in, the Fariq Ab Hamid, tried to contact anyone he could, but began to mumble incoherently, except for the fated, “Alright, roger that.” Fariq Ab Hamid was attempting to turn the plane around, when he, too, passed out.

Then All Hell Broke Loose
This is where things get weird, however, so brace yourselves. Even I, the respected and never joking journalist that I am, find things…hard to swallow. Like a first day Malaysian prostitute with an NBA star.

Turns out, the employees of Freescale Semiconductor hooked up the airliner as a live test for their military contract for their cloaking technology caused the small hole in the plane when it overloaded. This also resulted in the transponders to be corrupted and shut down, meaning no one could track the plane any longer. The strangest part of all of this comes from the report of the technology going critical and forming a small black hole in which the plane was now headed.

I think the hardest for us to follow in all of this, is the resulting contact with extraterrestrials. Hollywood normally portrays contact with interstellar beings as hostile, but such a thing is from our own prejudices. These alien visitors, sensing the airliner’s distress, showed up and wrapped the ship in a sub-space warp field, allowing it to pass unharmed through the even horizon. Like all black holes, it is a two way street, or wormhole, allowing travel over vast distances.

Reports are every passenger is safe, living in the Xentaris (Zin Tear Ees) system (the extraterrestrials’ name for their home system), but cannot return. The energy required to return them to our solar system is even beyond the ability of the Xentarians. Messages from the Xentarian leaders claim they are willing to house our citizens as their own and look forward to a day in which our cultures can exchange spices in person.

Families of the lost are still disheartened, knowing they will never see their loved ones again, but they do find comfort in knowing they are safe.

Redbox requests people no longer put sticky notes in their movies

Redbox, the insanely popular movie rental service, has noticed a trend they are not happy with and wants it to stop. Said trend is people putting sticky notes with messages into the movie boxes when returned. These notes have been ranging from quick movie reviews to very lewd messages. Predictably, Redbox has confiscated some of these messages and gave a few examples of them. Here’s a longer list of things found in Redbox movie cases:

Movie: A River Runs Through It
Message: I rented this while contagious

Movie: Disney’s Frost
Message: The stains on this DVD are not from a spilled Pepsi!

Movie: What to Expect When You’re Expecting
Message: It was not what I expected when I expected it…

Movie: Zack and Miri Make a Porno
Message: They spend so long making the porno, there isn’t enough time to actually show the porno they made! This is a total god damn rip off. Just return it immediately and get your dollar back!

Movie: Total Recall
Message: If people watched this masterpiece, there would be no wars

Movie: Thor: The Dark World
Message: Look, I’m not racist, but when it says “The Dark World” and only has one black person in the entire movie, I get upset. Yes, I’m black. Wanna fight about it?

Movie: Enders Game
Message: Your mother can change the world

Movie: Flight
Message: This was so good I punched my cat in the face!

Movie: The Butler
Message: Laurence Fishburn is one awesome house nigger African American

Movie: Despicable Me 2
Message: Turns out people CAN pick up things with their butt cheeks!

Movie: You’re Next
Message: The title is a warning…I am everywhere

Movie: Kick Ass 2
Message: Full frontal at 31m:42s! I think she’s still under age so it’s child porn, though…

Movie: Insidious Chapter 2
Message:Keep your religious force feeding out of Redbox!

Movie: Jobs
Message: If you think this is a documentary about the current unemployment crises, you’ll be disappointed. However, it was neat to see an actual snuff film in Redbox. Watching Steve Jobs, someone no one has heard of, slowly die of cancer is a film tour-de-force!

Movie: R.I.P.D
Message: Turns out I can carry 29 of these without using my hands

Movie: Pacific Rim
Message: Those brown markings aren’t from Hersey’s bars!

Movie: The Purge
Message: I like turtles…I mean…REALLY like turtles

Movie: Barbie and Her Sisters In A Pony Tale
Message: Sorry…I was really high when I rented this, so my tongue left a lot of streaks on the underside of the DVD. My bad, my bad

Movie: Girl Most Likely
Message: Honestly, I still have my doubts…

Movie: The 40 Year Old Virgin (Unrated)
Message: Save your soul. Buy bonds!

Movie: The Black Dhalia
Message: Where can I get hetero-genized milk so I don’t turn gay?

Movie: After Earth
Message: About two years ago I met this woman. She was amazing: Big boobs, toned ass, hour glass body, perfect lips, shining eyes, flowing hair, exceptional personality, great sense of humor. We hit it off pretty well and started dating exclusively shortly after. Things went well up until a week ago. When I came home, I found her in bed with my next door neighbor’s teenaged son. Yeah, I freaked out. I lost my cool and screamed all over the place. I mean, how could she? She won’t let me bang their teenage daughter, only my neighbor’s wife! How stupid is that? Anyway, now that I have gotten that off of my chest, and their son off of my wife’s, my words of advice are this: Never smoke in a firework factory.

Maybe I should start leaving notes, too? What am I saying? I have Netflix. Fuck you, Redbox!

Trevor Belmot suspended from Castlevania amid controversial statements

Trevor Belmont, the current patriarch of the Belmont family and high ranking member to the Brotherhood of Light, has been suspended from Castlevania by Konami after allegations of hate speech.

During an interview with the Monster Hunter Monthly, Trevor Belmont was asked a few questions regarding his personal beliefs as a monster hunter. The interviewer asked Trevor Belmont what he thought was the biggest, most sinful monster he recently had slain was. Trevor Belmont responded with the following:

That’s a tough one, but let’s start with the witches and branch out from there to the vampires. Let’s not forget about the flea-men going around jumping on this guy, and that guy, and the next guy, and some lady. They’re annoying as hell.

Then there’s the fishmen… I don’t know how anyone can look at those things and think they’ve got more to offer than a pike! I mean, a pike has delicious meat to eat. A fishman is nothing but bones!

Lastly, I think we can all agree a dog is a lot more of a suitable pet than a warg or a werewolf. The warg is going to eat your family completely and a werewolf just wants to spread his sin all over the place.

The Order of Ecclesia, a civil rights group filled with those who practice magic and other witchcraft, had received notice of Trevor Belmont’s statement and immediately began their retaliatory remarks, speaking out against him.

It’s terrible a member of the Belmont family would spout off such ignorant and hate filled statements! Comparing us to vampires…the nerve! Implying that we suck the bodily juices from our victims out of their neck while turning them into a demon spawn, forced to live in darkness…inconceivable! We’re witches! We turn people into toads, lizards, and the like. If we need bodily juices, we either seduce it out of the men we target or we drain it out of cuts we make ourselves with silver daggers.

Even though more than 60% of the population of Wallachia agrees witches, and everything else Trevor Belmont listed, are evil, that hasn’t stopped Konami from removing Trevor Belmont from all future Castlevania games at this time. Still, this hasn’t stopped Konami from releasing multiple titles already developed for sale with Trevor Belmont making appearances in them. Konami has also slated a new game, Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2, to release with Trevor Belmont making multiple appearances.

When asked about the hypocrisy, Konami had this to say:

It’s terrible Trevor Belmont would say such hate filled things. However, we are going to keep the current games released and will release the future game with no changes. Why? Because reasons. Mostly money. He makes us money. We aren’t above raking in the tons of cash he has provided to us and we will continue to ride that boat until it sinks!

Konami would not answer any further questions.

The Order of Ecclesia was not the only one to speak out against Trevor Belmont. When several confused individuals sent out tweetie birds filled with tiny messages tied to their feet, one of Wallachia’s best known trolls, Manpox, began catching and eating the birds. He then sent messages back to the people who sent them. One such message Manpox sent out was the following:

Personal beliefs aren’t personal when you say them out loud! Does that make sense? Of course not, but I don’t care!

When large numbers of people began speaking out against his limited understanding on what happened, he simply began ignoring them…but kept eating the birds. When asked what he thought was going on, Manpox told us the following:

People have the freedom to say what they want, but if you say what I don’t agree with, them I’m going to rip out your entrails, sit on your chest, and shit in the cavity! I will continue to ignore people giving me facts. I will only send out copies of people agreeing with me! Also, blow me.

Manpox would not give us further information, and instead, started screaming we were Wiccaphobians, hated Wallachia, and then began to fling his own feces in our direction. Needless to say, we beat a hasty retreat.

All of this begs the question: When does personal belief equal a right to be fired from your job? Trevor Belmont is known as someone with firm beliefs and even in game has stated his distaste for those who hunt in the night. Why now, then, is this suddenly an issue? Unlike Trevor’s distaste for vampires in the games, it’s simply because he made claim against a different group of people…a group of people who hex those who don’t toe-the-line with their special interest. No one is upset over Trevor’s statements about flea-men, wargs, or anything else. They’re simply upset about the comment about witches. Witches have been pressing for special rights for years now, demanding equal treatment, but then screaming how unfair it is when they are treated as poorly as everyone else.

Trevor Belmont had this to say in conclusion:

Am I going to stop this? No. I am a warrior for the Brotherhood of Light. We are a quasi-Christian based organization. I am a Christian myself. We’re tasked to take out creatures and people who worship the darkness. It’s our job! People are acting like this is an attack on people rather than the murderous and sinful life style itself. Everyone keeps forgetting I married a magic user . My wife, Sypha, her maiden name was Belnades, is an amazing mage. Hell, I even let a Devil Forgemeister go because he was a decent person. It’s the person and what they choose to do, not the title itself.

I’m going to keep spreading my message all over the place. This is nothing new to Konami. They wanted to do a series based on my family for a reason.

All members of the Belmont family, including Gabriel Belmont, controversial in his own right, have begun to discuss if they are going to continue doing the game series at all after the release of Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2. Unlike Monster Hunter Monthly, we never feel people are “too free to speak their mind” and will continue to fight fascism in all its forms.

The secret I’ve been keeping

I know I haven’t written in a while, but I have my reasons…mostly fishing, video games, and sex…not as much sex as I’d like to brag about, but still.  This update is going to simply consist of images.

I have a secret I’ve been hiding from you all…I have an identical twin brother:

Here me and my bro are just chillin’.  I’m hitting the video games, and he’s typing away

Arguing about how much time it takes to cook a burrito in the oven…

Aww…it’s always nice to see twins having a good time

Tea and booze…why do you always drink so much, brother?!

Well, hope you enjoyed the look into my private life you perverts

Posted 4/7/2011 at 3:40 AM on Xanga

Environmental Machocism

The Government Wants to Tax You for Gas Consumption

We’ve all heard about how absurd and unfair it is of the government to mandate the corporate average fuel economy of vehicles made by new car manufacturers.  Known as CAFE, people have long called for the government to get the hell out of the business of telling car makers what to build.  Safety is one thing, but dictating how much gas mileage a vehicle gets is something else.

Not that long ago the federal government didn’t lose any sleep over how terrible a car’s MPG was.  CAFE comes from an idea which originated in the 1970’s, then was launched straight to sacred cow status by the 1990’s.  Plenty of very cool vehicles can’t be built by the companies simply because of CAFE, since the manufacturers can’t balance them with enough gas sipping cars on the other end.

Just to let you know, CAFE almost killed the Viper project, and keeps Hemi’s out of more vehicles.  It also helps make life more miserable for the rest of us.  If CAFE weren’t around, Ford would be building all their Mustangs with a minimum of a 429 and Chrysler would have their 600HP 426-style Hemis into almost everything.  Hell, even GTOs would have the 455 crammed in with twin turbos.  CAFE has been a huge pain in everyone’s ass since it was introduced.  Even Obama sucks on CAFE’s teets, mandating that cars all average 35MPG by 2018.  35MPG!  Most cars can’t even average close to that!  CAFE is forcing manufacturers to build cars they can’t sell in order to build cars they can sell.  It’s a delicate balancing act – the gas sucking cars must be counter balanced with cars that sip it like tea.

Then there’s the massive problem with CAFE being caused by all you “stupid consumers” as well.  You see, you’re not buying what you’re supposed to be buying.  The feds have this perfect world idea of what you need, and even though they do their best to shove it down your throat and ride your ass, you’re not buying those little putt-putt cars.

I guess we should just face the fact that we’re all morons, right?  Kind of like when you’re at Thanksgiving and there’s a ton of food on the table spread out in front of you.  There are all kinds of healthy and unhealthy options to choose from, but you know what you want.  You want that big chocolate cake in the middle of everything.  However, since this isn’t your first rodeo, you’re aware you are going to end up having to eat some of the green beans, carrots, and things like that before you get cake.

Obviously the feds have made sure there are a crap ton of lima beans and soy burgers, but all of us idiots are still guzzling down the cake without even touching the veggies.  So, guess what?  Like you’re mom did, if she was actively involved in your life, the feds are now looking for ways to smack you on the side of the head and make you eat those god damn veggies, or else you can’t have the cake.

CAFE was flawed from the moment of it’s inception, and it still is.  Just because a company is being forced to build a car with mandates from the government, there currently is no law that says you must buy it.  We live in a relatively free society (getting less free by the month), so you’re allowed to buy whatever it is you actually want.  As long as you can make the payments and afford the insurance, that is.  Despite those 40MPG micro-cars becoming available, there just aren’t many people stupid enough buy them.

Using the mentality of “If you build it, they will buy it”, CAFE was forced through.  There is a reason there aren’t any fast food restaurants with drive-thrus selling asparagus or movies in the theatre about how soda cans are manufactured.  The public doesn’t want any of that kind of crap.  You have to make a product that people actually want if you’re going to stay in business.  Well, get ready to get a taste for asparagus sprouts on a whole wheat bun, because the feds are thinking, and that is never good for any of us.

What’s being pondered is something called HAFE.  What is HAFE?  It stands for “Household Average Fuel Economy”.  HAFE would shift the burden of fuel efficiency from the manufacturers to you.  The auto makers could make absolutely any car they want, and you could still buy whatever it is that you want…as long as you can meet the federally mandated HAFE rating for your particular household, and you must uphold it.

Not getting it yet?  HAFE would work much the same way CAFE has worked, only now you are the target and not Chrysler or Ford.

The feds would take a look at your family: How many kids do you have? How far do you drive to work? How many vehicles do you own?  All those kinds of things, and then decide your vehicles must average 35MPG.  If you have a pickup and an SUV, then you’re not going to make it.  To balance out either one of those cars, you’d have to buy a micro Smart Car in order to balance it.  Oh, but that’s not all.  You’d have to drive the micro Smart Car an equal or even greater amount to actually satisfy the 35MPG mandate.

You see, possession isn’t enough under HAFE.  You actually have to meet the mandate or you’ll be fined.  This could be the biggest money grab ever dreamed up.  The formula for figuring out your HAFE is extremely over simplified in order to keep people from being scared, too.  Edward Lapham, of Automotive News fame writes, “If you own an SUV that gets about 20MPG and a mid-sized convertible that gets about 30MPG, and a compact sedan that gets about 40MPG, and you drive them all about the same distance in a year, your HAFE would be 30MPG.”

That seems awful reasonable and simple, right?  But, how many of you out there own three cars?  Collectors generally have more than three and many average people are lucky to have one.  What happens if you own a garage full of Road Runners and Barracudas?  Yep, you’re fucked.  Under HAFE you’d be taxed or penalized every year just for having a muscle car in your garage.  It’s basically a perpetual car note.

Let’s say the feds give you a HAFE of 25MPG and you only average 18MPG by years end.  That’s when the feds will be able to slap you with a tax penalty for not doing your part.  You’re not being taxed unfairly, since we have to be fair.  No, you’re being taxed for not doing your part to help the environment.  This is a deliciously tasty idea to Washington because it means they will have a brand new way of rounding up cash from everyone.  Also, the ones generally being affected will be the wealthy, who generally have vehicles with lower miles per gallon on average.

There’s a ton of things that this whole HAFE idea has not addressed.  For instance, what about the guy who needs a large dually to get his work done since he is in construction?  What if you’re a single female with a convertible Mustang and nothing else?  These things haven’t even been addressed yet.  All this goes to further prove that a politician with too much time on his/her hands is a dangerous thing.

Think it won’t or can’t happen?  Do you really think that people in the 1960’s thought that the government could ever mandate what hair spray is made of?  Let’s keep HAFE in the basement.  Politicians always want to keep their jobs, so contact them and tell them to kill the Pelosi agenda introduced HAFE immediately.  Let the free market run without these restrictions.  It’s what our founding father’s intended.

Posted 1/7/2011 at 6:13 AM on Xanga

The Tale of Henry Divor

The Tale of Henry Divor
By Anthony Passalacqua

The night had fast arrived, cloaking everything in it’s suffocating blanket of darkness. Looking up to the obsidian sky, Henry Divor could not even see the winking of a single star through the thick cushion of clouds. Pulling tightly at the hooded cloak wrapped about his neck, Henry scanned his surroundings, hoping to find a place to stay for the night. In the near distance a small flicking of light caught his attention and Henry could make out the outline of a farm house.

Grunting to himself, Henry strode toward the farm. To him, each step was an annoyance. He was accustomed to so much more luxury than he currently endured. Through a series of bad decisions he had wasted his great wealth down to absolutely nothing. The days of his greatest indignity of having been to wear the same coat twice in the same month was over. Now he had nothing more than the clothing on his back and the angry memories he wished he could erase. The lap of luxury had been soft and warming, but he was tossed down to the floor like an unwanted child without a second thought. Everyone had turned their backs on him, and so he was even without friends.

Taking another deep sigh, Henry felt something touch his cheek as he quickly moved toward that small beacon of light. A breeze as brisk as the deep winter blew about him and hundreds of snowflakes began to kiss his flesh. Henry quickened his step towards the farm house as the goddess Skadi attempted to wrap him into her frozen embrace. Each snowflake looked like a small star falling from the sky as it amplified what dim amount of light there was. The beauty of the scene would not have been lost to Henry if he wasn’t worried for his own life.

Just when he felt as though his legs would take him no further and the bony hand of death rest on his shoulder, Henry reached the door to the farm house. With three raps Henry notified the owner of his presence. Inside, he could hear a series of muted voices, almost as though from the realm of the dead, spoke to each other before he could hear a series of footsteps approach the door.

With a high pitched whine the door swung open very slowly to reveal a man of many seasons staring at Henry. Behind the seasoned man was a woman of equal state and three young children sitting about a table near a kitchen fire.

“Speak your business, traveler,” the man spoke to Henry, eying him up and down with caution.

“Please, sir, I beseech you, let me enter if just for the night. I am being braced up by death itself and I fear he shall take me in this weather,” Henry replied to the man through frozen lips and chattering teeth.

“I have only the floor to offer you, stranger, but you are welcome…under one condition,” the man informed Henry and opened the door slightly more on it’s crying hinges.

“I do not have much, but anything I can do I shall! Please, speak your price and allow me to stave off death!” Henry pleaded with the man, gripping the door frame with fingers so cold he could no longer feel them.

“I wish for only but a story told to me and mine. We are in dire need of a new one, and my children do enjoy them so,” the man said with a smile, believing his price was more than fair, especially to a desperate man in a snow storm.

“But I…” Henry gasped, holding a frozen hand to his chest with gruff, “But I have no stories to tell! I am nothing more than a man fallen from the lap of privileged. For I have never traveled far from home beside this night…I cannot pay your price. I will not and cannot pay!”

With a snort, the man closed the door more so once again, “I ask only for a story and you cannot even provide that. Even one so made up you refuse, so you will find no sanctuary here!”

Before Henry could speak, the man shut the door with such ferocity that it roared closed loudly even in the howling winds. Pulling the cloak as tightly about him as he could, Henry staggered away from the door and looked around for even a large tree in hopes to bed down behind. A moment of clarity in the storm allowed Henry to spy a large barn not far from the house. With little other option left, Henry began his labored trip to it’s doors.

A deep, bellowing moan came from the large barn door opened it’s gaping maw to allow Henry to enter. Closing the portal behind him, Henry found a small lantern, flint, and a steel knife. Lighting the lantern with his frost cursed hands, he inventoried his surroundings. The barn contained no animals, but had an uncountable amount of hay, some piled high, and a plethora of boxes undoubtedly housing tools or other feed. Walking as far back as he could access, Henry blew out the lantern and lay deep in the hay, where the the wind became his lullaby and he slept.
Henry did not know how long he slept, but he was now feeling much better and did not feel the Grim Reaper tapping his foot, counting down to the harvest. The winds outside no longer sang their tune of bitterness come and through a separation in the barn construction, Henry could almost make out the stars.

Suddenly he became of what had woken him from the tender cuddle of sleep: A series of voices rapidly approaching the barn. Like a prairie dog alerted to the incoming dangers, Henry buried himself into the stack of hay he was using as a bed.

Preceded by a series of laughs, the barn door swing open almost silently and with the speed of the wind. Quickly catching his breath in his throat, Henry did not see the farm owner nor his family. Instead, three giants stomped into the middle of the barn, trembling the ground as they walked. The largest of the giants would rival the old Titans in physique and had a long, white beard. The second of the giants had fiery red hair, a hooked nose, and was very skinny. The third giant, short as he may have been was still four heads taller than Henry, was chubby and was dragging a long white sack behind him.

“I told you this place would be useful,” the second of the giants spoke with a booming voice.

“Yes, it will suit our purpose for this night,” the largest of the giants spoke with a rich baritone, “Let us build the fire here.”

Dropping the white sack, the third of the giants began to help them build a pile of wood and hay in the middle of the barn.

“This one will taste delicious!” the smallest of the giants stated, wiping some drool from his chin.

“Yes, we were lucky to find him wandering about at such a night!” the largest of the giants said with a chuckle, slapping the smallest of the giants on the shoulder.

Deep fear pierced Henry’s entire being when he came to the understanding the contents of the sack were that of another human being. With the tightness of a noose, his throat closed, preventing him from swallowing even the smallest of droplets. Coughing, Henry quickly covered his mouth and gasped aloud, knowing that his hiding place would soon be discovered. All three giants turned and looked into his position and began their large strides to his sanctuary. The largest of the giants reached down into the hay, and with one hand lifted Henry into the air.

“This of you I do beg! Please, spare my life and I shall be forever in your debt! For not a soul I shall speak of this to!” Henry pleaded with widened eyes as he kicked about in the air.

“What is your name, puny man?” the largest of the giants questioned, bringing Henry ever closer into his face. The odor of breath from the giant was nearly unbearable to Henry and he gagged slightly at the pungent smell.

“Henry…Henry Divor!” Henry gave a muffled shout through his hands as he covered his nose and mouth.

The largest giant tossed Henry to the ground as though he were a sack of potatoes. Scurrying to get up, Henry looked over to see the body, still wrapped up, not more than an arm’s reach away.

“Well then, Henry, Henry Divor. Do our bidding and we will let you live. String this body and hoist it into the air, then build a fire and help us cook it, or else it will be your body next we be cooking!” the largest of the giants ordered.

Unable to speak and in dire fear for his life, Henry began to do as he was ordered. Quickly he tied a rope about the body and through it over the rafters. With the speed unmatched in his life, Henry then built a large hay pile in order to start the fire. Grunting to one another, the giants gave a nod and then headed out of the barn.

The second largest of the giants stopped and shouted back at Henry, “Cook him well for our return, or we will cook you next!”

Henry could think of nothing more than to obey these giants in exchange for his life, so he began to cook the body. The fires roared and heated the barn, but the flames began to lick the sack and rope which was keeping it held up. Before long, the sack began to burn and the rope caught fire, dropping the body into the flames before the tired Henry could do anything about it. Watching in horror as the body turned black with char, Henry’s eyes filled with pools of tears. Hearing the sound of the giants returning, Henry rushed out of the barn as fast as he could.
Working their twilight magic on him, the stars were making Henry more tired than he would be even with his full run down the moonlit road. He did not know how long he had been running away from the barn, but Henry knew it was not yet far enough, however, he could go no further. Crawling off the main path, Henry found a deep bush which would offer him shelter from both sight and from the night. Moments after settling down, Henry once again drifted off to sleep, assured he was now safe from the horrific scene which had played out to him.

Frantic dreams haunted him as he slept on the dampness of the ground. Shifting his position, whispers crawled through the night, tickling his hear. Stiffening his body like a rod of iron, he carefully peered through the thistle branches of the bush from where he was attempting to sleep. Shadows at first, three figures began to move ever closer as they chanted a haunting tune as they walked. Larger still the figures become, until Henry realized they were the giants who would most certainly punish him for ruining their dinner.

Each step of the three giants reverberated along the ground as they crashed through the snow riddled road. Acid rose up into Henry’s throat as his fear overtook him, and he gasped out loud. Pausing next to his bush, the giants began to look around.

“I know I heard something,” the second largest of the giants remarked, searching the sky.

“I did as well,” stated the largest of the giants, who began to scan the horizons.

“Oh, we most certainly did!” the smallest of the giants exclaimed. With speed unthinkable, the smallest of the giants reached into the bush and pulled Henry through the bush, cutting his skin on each of the needles. Throwing him to the ground, the smallest of the giants began laughing heartily.

“Well, now. Henry, Henry Divor!” the largest giant laughed, dropping the charred body to the ground, “You have made us miss our dinner!”

“Please, no! I beg of you! Show me mercy!” Henry begged on his knees.

“Mercy? We shall show you mercy…for a short time!” the second largest of the giants exclaimed, picking Henry up and handing him the burned body.

“Follow us now with the ruined meal, or we will eat you this moment!” the smallest of the giants reminded him. Saying nothing, Henry began to follow the giants through the night until they reached a small graveyard.

“Dig, Henry Divor!” the largest of the giants demanded as he thrust a shovel at him, “Dig a a grave for this ruined meal or it will be your grave we be digging next!” With trembling hands, Henry began to dig as feverishly as he could. Taking a few minutes to watch Henry work to make sure he was doing a good job, the giants moved further away and began to whisper amongst themselves.

As the night wore on and the hole began to grow up to his waist, Henry was trembling with exhaustion. His hands were blistered, bleeding, and in agony. his back felt as though it would snap and he could no longer stand straight up. He long ago stopped crying simply because he had not the hydration in his body to continue doing so.

Soft as a mouse squeak, he heard a sound he was familiar with, and so he paused at his work. The three giants sat back to back, arms folded, heads down, deep in the world of sleep. At first Henry believed this to be a trap and feared to move even his eyelids. Watching the rhythmic raise and fall of each giants chest, he grew braver and began to walk towards them, as they were between him and the exit to the fenced in graveyard.

When the giants did not move as he stepped over the second largest’s legs, he began to run as fast and hard as his broken body would allow. The soothing morning’s light was beginning to shine its golden hue across the sky, lifting his spirits with each step. Close in the distance was a small town, and so he quickened his pace, desperate for the freedom and security he hoped it would provide.
For four years Henry Divor worked in the small town, learning new trades, and once again building a comfortable life. Each winter brings those dreaded memories back to him, as he relives that cursed night every time his head lays upon his pillow during a snow storm. He tries to push it aside, but feels the tapping of the reaper with each passing second during the memory.

This day, however, was a bright spring day filled with excitement. Henry Divor was being honored tomorrow in the town for his contributions over these years. Once a stranger, and now a welcomed member of their community.

Needing a new outfit for the ceremony, Henry hurried that morning to a tailor in the next town over. The trip itself was unremarkable through the green hills, save for a few passing caravans. Upon reaching his destination, Henry hopped down from his cart and tied his horse to the post. It was then fear struck Henry almost into paralyzation once again.

As the door to the tailor’s opened, the largest of the three giants stepped from the shop, dressed in a fine suit. Henry’s mouth became dry, his knees quaked, and the sweat fell instantly from his brow like rain from a storm cloud. Hearing a gasp, the giant turned his head and looked Henry straight in the eye.

“Well, now! Henry Divor!” the giant laughed and reached for him.

“No! No, please!” Henry screamed and began to run with a new found energy. His legs moved so quickly, he nearly tripped himself multiple times as he dashed between people on the street. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how loud his heart beating in his head was, the giant’s footsteps were always directly behind him.

“Got you!” the giant exclaimed as he grabbed Henry by the shoulder and spun him around.”

“No, please! I am sorry for everything those many years ago! Please, do not kill me!” Henry begged. The giant simply let out a hearty laugh and rubbed Henry’s head.

“No, Mr. Divor, I am not going to kill you. Nor am I going to give you labors,” the giant stated with a soft smile.

“Then…I don’t understand…” Henry quivered, falling to his knees.

“Mr. Divor, I am glad you remember me!” the giant chuckled helping him up, “Now when asked, you have a good story to tell! And if you don’t mind coming over for dinner…my family and brothers would love to hear your version of events!”

Needling: Deadly New Teen Trend

Needling – A Deadly New Teen Trend
New trend can lead to disease
By Morton Dillon

Denver, CO – Jillian Meadows was, by every account, a normal sixteen year old girl. She had a good part time job, was on the cheerleading team, and helped out at the retirement community. No one had anything negative to say to her, and she was never in any kind of trouble.

Jillian, however, had a dark secret. A secret so concealed that not even her parents knew about it. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until July 6th, at around five in the afternoon when Jillian’s parents rushed her to the hospital after finding her unconscious on her bedroom floor did anyone even have an idea something was wrong. She died at approximately midnight. The cause of death was a large scale staph infection.

It’s called “Needling”, and it’s becoming more and more popular among teenagers. Your son or daughter might even be doing it right now.
A growing problem
Joey Martinez admits to needling like a teenagerIt’s the latest in trends among teenagers and even adults with Aspergers. Rather than cutting themselves, your children are repeatedly pricking themselves with needles. There are hundreds of website dedicated to “Needling”. These sites teach children how to keep their needles sharp, clean, and where to prick to get the biggest high out of the pain. Many websites even try to hide the truth by claiming it is a valid, medical procedure. However, if you venture into their forums, you’ll find the truth.

Just last year alone we were shocked to learn that nearly fifty teenagers in Denver alone were rushed to the hospital with severe staph infections and blood clots due to “Needling”. With fatalities originating at zero and shooting up to even just one, we feel the need to bring this to every parent’s attention.

What you might not know is how shocking the numbers are. When asking at a local area high school, we found that nearly seventy percent of students are either a “needler” or knows someone who is. Even more surprising is that teenagers are willing to turn a blind eye to this new trend, because it doesn’t leave tell tale markings like cutting does.
How 'Needling' Works and the TermsEven though it’s called “Needling”, a needle isn’t necessarily required. When asked, ninth grader, Timothy McAdams stated, “It’s not that difficult to do without a needle. While sitting in class I will use a sharpened paperclip or even just the end of my mechanical pencil.” This is the most shocking of all: Needlers are using anything they can get a hold of to perform the “Needling”.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Samantha Fanell, of a Highlands Ranch school told a reporter, “It’s not like it leaves scars like cutting does. You don’t even know who’s doing it. I could be a needler and you wouldn’t even know it, now would you?” Samantha showed us up and down her arms, and even her legs to prove it. Was Samantha a needler? She never did give us a straight answer.
Surviving the Pressure
Sarah Winchester, a junior at RMH, came to us with her story of surviving the pressure of “Needling”. Sara is one of many teenagers dealing with this new trend amongst her friends. Sarah tells us the following:

I was at a party last September with a lot of my friends. I didn’t know everyone who was there, but that’s just the way it is most of the time. Pretty much the usual was going on at the party until I noticed a group of people in the corner. I figured they were just playing Beer Pong or something.

When I approached them, I couldn’t see what was going on, so I asked someone. “They’re needling. We’re waiting our turn,” I was told. I had no idea what needling was, so I asked. I was horrified to find out they were jabbing themselves in the neck and arm with sharp points!

When offered to join them, I ran out of there as fast as possible. The worst thing I’m going to touch is a cigarette, thank you very much.
From Whence It Came
No one is really sure when “Needling” became a hot trend amongst teenagers. Most people believe that it started off as an Internet fetish, but was quickly picked up by depressed teenagers as a means to inflict pain in order to raise endorphin levels, resulting in a small high.

“Almost everyone uses the Internet as a means to communicate with colleagues and check their e-mail. However, a small group of people use it to spread cancerous ideas around. And, like cancer, these ideas are almost impossible to destroy,” attorney Mark Stundall claims, “Teenagers and pedophiles see the Internet in this way. We really need heavy government regulation of the Internet. Soon we’ll see your children recruited into terrorist training camps through the Internet thanks to lax laws.”

One can monitor many of the needlers through Facebook and Twitter. Hundreds of “Needlers” like to post updates on their “Needling” on Twitter for their friends to follow.

#nf Needling tonight at midnight to hide from rents!
#nf Frakeing ❤ teh nedls!!!!!!!
#nf Needled my dog, lolololololololo!!11!

It’s not just the depressed kids and adults with Aspergers anymore. Even pop stars are keen on this trend. Not long ago, Miley Cyrus spoke out against “Needling” on the Oprah Winfrey show.

“It’s not something that adults are really tuned in to be able to pick up,” Miley tells Oprah, “however, kids are going to see that it produces a small high, or even balances you out. I’ve never tried it myself. Yes, I can promise that.”
Law Enforcement’s Involvement
Even though we sent copy of the Twitter feeds to the Summit County Sheriff’s office, they seem to be both powerless and apathetic to this trend.

“It’s not that we don’t care,” Sheriff Kenney Boone stated, “it’s just that there really isn’t a law against it. Much like suicide, it’s not something we can charge someone with. The law is pretty clear here in Colorado: It’s your body and you can do what you want.”

This begs just one question: How many more must suffer before the law steps in and helps our children?

Posted 8/8/2010 at 11:54 PM on Xanga

The Twilight Saga as I understand it

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far similar to ours…

From Left to Right: Cuntbag1, Douchebag1, Cuntbag2, Douchebag2, Cuntbag3, Cuntbag4 (Or is that a Douchebag3???)

So, it started way back in time.  Probably around the time Marky Mark still had a funky bunch.  There were a bunch of effeminate looking pussies sitting around the camp fire when they decided to group up and drink blood in order to freak out the tougher dudes.  They eventually became addicted to the blood and were forced to keep drinking it because they couldn’t stomach real food.

Now, in addition to all of this, their bodies began to change beyond the “I need blood” thing.  Lucky for them, it fit in with their self proclaimed Asperger lifestyles. They developed the ability to run really fast due to their fear of everyone else teasing them.  They got the ability to sparkle in the sun, because as pedophiles, that would help to attract little girls and jail bait to them like flies to honey.  After all, teenage girls and kids love sparkling things, and when your entire body glitters, any 14 to 16 year old is going to be all over it.

A few hundred years later, in order to show how stupid the new “vampire group” was, a bunch of romantics who wanted to be cynics, also known as the guys and girls who are moderately attractive and not cool enough to get along with the cool kids and hate the unpopular kids as much as they hate the cool kids, decided to dress up in animal clothing.  This is the first recorded instance of the furries as well.  These people would put on their animal skins while running around like retards, attacking the vampire groups because they were slightly physically stronger than the weaklings who drank blood.  This started a war, not unlike the Bloods against the Crips, but much, much stupider, if that’s at all possible, and without the drug trafficking battles.

In order to be more effective, both groups began to form their own groups within the groups, calling themselves clanners, or clanninites, or clam-bangers…I don’t remember, I didn’t pay much attention to the books or movie.  The vampire group decided they needed to have their own “council of lawyers”…or was it council of laws…again, I don’t quite remember.  This group sat around and pretended to enforce laws they believed would make them even more organized, and thus cooler, than the now known as lycans group.  They called it the Volturi.  As it turns out, the lycans group wouldn’t put up with that and formed packs, like real animals in the wild, and would make truces with each other in order to beat up the vampire group.

Well, along came a wizard and cast a magic spell on both groups.  Why did the wizard put a spell on them?  One of the battles was so retardedly epic, that they made him spill a cup of hot chocolate or something like that and destroyed his house.  Now both groups were forced to always fight and be douchebags to not only each other, but the general populace as well.  Also, the vampires would live a long time and the lycans had to live in dog years.

You’d think that the vampires would like this due to their pedophile tendencies, seeing as that a 21 year old female lycan would actually only be 3 years old, but that isn’t the case.  Turns out, because of the wizard spell, the vampires all got special powers…beyond having the jail bait lure of sparkling skin…kind of like the Uncanny X-Men.  With this unforeseen (or was it?!) benefit, the vampires decided to use it against people, use it to attract more underage girls and fight the lycans.  The lycans decided that they were going to use their quick aging to rob the grave, as it were, and bang GmILFs.

This day in age, there is a girl named Bell…I mean Bella.  She is sixteen years old.  She lived in Arizona, where they make some bomb ass iced tea and bottle it, but her father wants her to move to Washington State, America, because he becomes the chief of police.  The small town has around fifty people or the like, so why they have their own police department is beyond me, unlike the understanding of this series.

Even though Bella is from Arizona, she is almost as pale as the vampires, which turns out later to be something that doesn’t matter, since the vampires only care about age and not looks.  Again, this is a good thing because Bella is about as attractive as any Arizona 6 on a 10 scale can be.  That’s to say she isn’t ugly, but she isn’t quite that so adorably cute girl-next-door, either.  You’d nail her because she was drunk at a party and you had about four to six beers yourself and she’s willing.

In the same state and small town that Bella moves to, a group of vampires who don’t want to actually act like vampires.  Well, except for the entire pedophile thing.  I mean, the damn vampires are hundreds of years old and they are nailing teenagers…come on…  Anyway, that group hate that they are vampires, but love getting the illegal tail, so they keep doing it.

The head vampire in that group is Jacob, or Edward…or Dutch van der Linde…  To be honest, all the vampries look like pale women, except for one black dude.  I tell you how he got his position as a vampire: Affirmative Action.  What is important is that they live in Washington State, America, because it hardly ever has a lot of sunshine there.  Why they didn’t chose Alaska with over 30 days of night is beyond me.

After a while, Bella finds out that Edward/Jacob/Dutch is a vampire and acts like it’s not a big deal.  That’s all thanks to him showing her that he glitters in the sunlight, like a Hello Kitty Internet greeting card.  They date for a while, never really do anything, and Edward/Jacob/Dutch leaves.  Bella is so distraught that she does the same thing Lois Lane did when Superman left: She found someone within the week to screw around with.

Bella sure knows how to pick the psycho freaks, because it turns out that Jacob/Dutch/Edward…again, I couldn’t really tell which one was which…is a werewolf.  Yes, that’s right!  Uh oh!  Bella is not only now the pedophile (the werewolf dude is on dog years, remember, and looks about her age), but she is dating the enemy of Edward/Jacob/Dutch.  Well, they are enemies because of the whole dog versus blood drinker thing.

The girl in our story has gone from fang banging to bestiality as well.  However, it’s not all that good, because Edward/Jacob/Dutch has come back, because his “spider sense” is tinging that she is dating someone else.  Now that Edward/Jacob/Dutch is back, Bella realizes she can only be around him, and not Jacob/Dutch/Edward.  Why?  Because the fucker glitters in the sun!  Duh.

Well, a massive love triangle is formed, but not really.  You see, since Bella is in to Edward/Jacob/Dutch and not Jacob/Dutch/Edward, it’s really just a couple and one dude who won’t get the hint and try banging someone else.  Jacob/Dutch/Edward is kind of like that one guy who always wants to buy you coffee and take you out “As just friends, I promise!”

Dark things happen…and I don’t mean the combination of necrophilia and pedophilia.  No, some vampire who wants Edward/Jacob/Dutch to have sex with her…or wants him dead…who’s named Vicky…no wait, Victoria…decides that she is going to create new vampires and hunt both Edward/Jacob/Dutch and Bella down.

Bella, like any teenager and woman, keeps bitching at Edward/Jacob/Dutch to turn her into a vampire, but he won’t.  Why would he want her to stick around when he can keep getting jail bait ass when she gets older?  So, Bella decides that she could be like the lycans and tells Jacob/Dutch/Edward to turn her into a werewolf instead.  This creates a lot of tension, because Edward/Jacob/Dutch wouldn’t want to be a fur fag, just a pedophile.  Jacob/Dutch/Edward doesn’t really want to do a dog, so he teaches her lessons by making her almost freeze to death and almost cutting off her own hand.  She eventually realizes that it’s a bad idea and stops her bitching.

Well, Victoria launches an attack against them, and both the lycans and the vampires team up.  At least now the werewolves can kill some of the vampires, or die trying.  Turns out they do a lot of dying, and Victoria, while not victorious (HA!), is shunned away and brought to vampire justice.

All in all, Bella and Edward/Jacob/Dutch realize that they can’t be together anymore and they split up.  No, she doesn’t go to Jacob/Dutch/Edward, either.  She does the normal teenager thing and cries herself to sleep and dies…or am I thinking of a different ending to a different story?

It doesn’t matter.  None of this matters.  What does matter is that you now have as much understanding of the series as I do and as much as you should ever care to.  Hell, it’s probably even more than you should care to.

Posted 7/8/2010 at 5:15 PM on Xanga