Ancient english-american proverb
Does a fart smell in the woods? - Confusedius
The quizzical nature of the Junior Brain Trust.
Auggie the brain child lapped up his protein paste like a dog.
“I’m exercising my right as a supreme power to do whatever the hell I want!” He exclaimed.
Mellonok looked toward him with an irritated gaze. “Please do not use the word ‘Hell’, Augisterelle. Fallacies no longer hold any weight in the context of a swear.”
He propelled forward on his vector field pad. “Well I’m a fan of the archaic terminology. These Mad Men optical broadcasts you have let me data-wave are full of great historical references,” he mentioned to Mellonok as he buzzed around the room.
“For instance, they would take the regionally made, liquid perception distorter, ‘bourbon’, and add acid juice to it along with tree droppings. It was called an ‘Old Fashioned’.”
Mellonok engaged Auggie at the exam slab. “Help me with my quandary of log 6 of the Mad Men optical. Here, take a look at this moment that I gathered from the node. Now this perception distorter elixir was bestowed upon their guests in the rising hour, it appears to be similar to several others by sight. But I know this is not the same distorter used in those classes.”
Auggie tapped his fingers as he held onto his chin. “It’s not a Pineapple Plantation? Marvel Sling? What about Yellow Almond, or a Zombie?” He asked.
“No, no. Zombies has too many distorters in them. It should only have one type in the high ball receptacle based on solar position in the Mad Men universe. Not until lunar show do they indulge with multiple distorters. I thought you knew all about this!” Mellonok fired back.
After much back and forth, and accessing the archival internet library, historical documents revealed the drinks to be mai tais. The end.
*I want to make a photoshop to go along with this, so stay tuned*
They forgot about Wheezy
Wheezy the Vampire, a smoker in his former life, had a terrible disadvantage when stalking his prey.
Everywhere he lurked, even in the shadows, the townsfolk knew that he was waiting to strike.
He couldn’t even float within a couple meters from his potential victims. Like clockwork, they would shout, “Wheezy, get out of here!”
Until one day, it dawned on him. “I need to attack those who cannot hear me,” he thought.
But there were no deaf people in town. He was back at square one.
Until one day, he awoke to the most peculiar sound. It was as if he had become disembodied and finally could identify what he sounded like to all mortals. It was coming from down the street. Smokers, glorious smokers. He felt like a buffoon for not thinking of it before.
They won’t know what bit them.
Two people standing on the roof of a building.
The view is beautiful up here. You were right.
And take in this air. It’s so refreshing.
Ahhhhh… bird farts. Love it.
My pro baseball dreams may come true.
Curse these shins. I wish there was a way for my legs to not give out once I’ve sprinted 85 feet!
But didn’t you hear? That is all you have to sprint now to be safe! You just have to stumble for the last five feet!
Proof that I have what it takes! **Click this ESPN footage of me**
