C0rpse Issue 3 Tom the Unfortunate Aardvark Well, I'm back again with another lovely file
C0rpse Issue 3 - Tom the Unfortunate Aardvark
Well, I'm back again with another lovely file full of incoherent
babbling, drooling, and muttering inane comments. Actually, I thought that
this would, perhaps, be a good point at which to write a bit of fiction.
So, here goes.
"To paste, or not to paste, that is the question," said Tom with an
air of accomplishment in his voice at having so beautifully mamed a piece
of classic literature.
"No it isn't," said Max.
"It isn't a question you ignorant bastard, it's a declarative sentence
led off by the comparison of two appositive phrases, which, I might add,
contain infinitive phrases."
"Oh... umm... er... well, I knew that of course, but it would've taken
much to long to say that, and by the time I was through I would've
forgotten the question."
"I already told you it isn't a question."
"Well, I would've forgotten the statement then."
"Right, now that we've got that settled... carry on."
"Carry on with what," said Tom, now utterly confused, discouraged, and
having the sudden urge to urinate in front of an elderly woman (this last
thought shook him up a bit since the last time he did so, the nice man at
the police station told him that if he did it again they'd make him shower
with Bubba again. Needless to say, Tom did not fully contemplate the
carrying out of this event, but it proved to be merely a whimsical
"Carry on with the whole pasting bit." said Max.
"Oh yes... that's right"
And with that, they both turned to the cherry red Volvo they were
standing in front of.
"I like parking lots, don't you?" said Tom.
"Not especially, they tend to have all these big metal things in them
that move around."
"You mean cars?"
"No... I mean that stupid kid that's always pushing those carts
around... he's a regular speed demon... One once killed my mother."
"But you're mother's still alive... she lives in Albequerque."
"Hmph... she keeps doing that to me... calling and telling me she's
dead just so she won't have to send me a Christmas present... at any rate,
let's do the pasting thing, I want to get out of here."
So Tom turned around and pulled out the jar of paste, and bag of
cottonballs he had in his coat pocket, and proceeded to begin pasting them
all over the car in the shape of various parts of his anatomy that will
remain unmentioned. Of course when the owner of the Volvo return, he
wouldn't know what they were supposed to be anyway, unless he happens to be
educated in the area of Aardvark anatomy. Oh yes, perhaps I should have
mentioned that point before now? Tom is an Aardvark and Max is a
middle-aged mutant ninja wombat, who, with the help of his clever disguise,
leads the life of Smark Dent, the IRS agent from hell as he works to right
the wrongs of the evil taxpayers (among those evils falls that of earning a
salary greater than his, and since his income usually falls in the range of
5 dollars per year the only person not qualifying for his wrath is his one
and only friend Tom). You may now be asking yourself "how in the world are
these two in the middle of a shopping center parking lot and noone notices
them?" The answer is quite simple: "They're not you fool... this is a
B-grade fiction text file and is meant to be no imitation of real life...
don't bother me with details."
Tom finished his pasting of the car, and was quite pleased with his
work this time around. It was a masterpiece as far as cottonball art was
concerned, but then again, considering he was the only one he knew of that
practiced cottonball art, pretty much anything he did would qualify for a
The two decided that this would, perhaps, be a good time to leave the
area. Considering the owner of the car was a former Mr. Universe, had
biceps so large he couldn't cut steak, and had shoulders in two different
time zones, I'd say they were correct in their decision.
"This is getting boring" remarked Max smugly.
"oh... I thought it was rather interesting" replied Tom.
"No it isn't... it out and out sucks."
"Oh... I hadn't realized... maybe we should find something to do."
"Yes, most definitely, but what?"
Just at that moment, Tom tripped over something and fell flat on the
ground, and there, not two feet away from him, was an incredibly strange
"Stop staring at my rear!" Screamed Max, for you see, aardvarks always
land on their backs when they fall, so after max had tripped him, Tom
had ended up staring at the somewhat large apparition of Max's posterior.
"Oh, sorry... didn't mean to, but I tripped over something."
"That was my foot."
"oh.. ummm... umm... how'd I trip over you foot??"
"I put it in front of your feet."
"Oh... so technically I didn't really trip, but your foot and mine
tried to occupy the same space on this plane at the same moment and
disrupted the space time continium sending an astral shockwave rocking
through my body and sent me arms flailing to the ground?"
"Ummm... errr... Yes Tom, that's exactly it."
"I don't like that... let's not do that again."
It was at this point that Tom realized something even more interesting
near his head. A scroll of some sort partially buried in the ground.
"LOOK!" said Tom, "It's a scroll of some sort partially buried in the
"Oh yes, I suppose it is... looks more like parchment to me tho, not a
"Oh?? no, I believe it to be a scroll... looky how it curls up at the
"No, no... it's definitely a parchment of some sort or another...
scrolls you see, at least any that would be present in this time-layer of
strata would have been made of papyrus which has a very beige hue to it,
but this deed here... see these small crease lines through it, and the
"no... no, this hue suggests nothing other than yellow."
"Oh... ummm... does it really make a difference whether it's a papyrus
scroll or a piece of parchment?"
"Oh... what's it say"
"How should I know?"
"Well you're holding it aren't you?"
"Well... ummm... would it be possible for you to?... what i mean is,
could you, perhaps?... ummm... err... READ THE STUPID THING ALREADY!"
"oh... ok... here you go."
The following is a transcription of the message contained on the
Oh most noble warrior... You have discovered the secret writings of the
monks of Euclid. You must travel to the far corner of the west and
retrieve the golden arrow of light from its resting place deep beneath the
castle eggwhite and return it to it's rightful resting place in the hand of
the king of Euclid so that all the world will be at peace.
And with that, Max tossed the scroll/parchment to the ground and declared
"Oh no you don't! You're not gonna saddle us with a plot NOW! It's
almost time for lunch." and with that, they both walked home.
Tom had had so much fun today that he could hardly contain himself and
he decided to practice another of his strange hobbies: yodel-singing. The
basic concept was to insert a small yodel in between each line of the song
and replace the chorus with a wierd farting noise. Tom began:
"It's a small world after all
It's a small world after all
It's a small world after all
It's a small, small world"
And with that, God cried out in his anguish from the heavens "WHY
ME???? Why me?!?! Put some living things on the planet I thought... what
harm could it do??? Make little furry animals... aren't they cute???
AARRRGGGGHHH Why won't these things leave me alone... "I want world
peace".. "Stop the fighting in Bosnia"... "Tell us why we have
And then god, obviously angered at Tom's having combined the two most
annoying sounds on the face of the planet, decided to destroy the earth by
"Wait a minute God!" Screamed Max, "Isn't that a little cliche?? What
with that first one and all"
"Oh yes... I suppose your right... here, let's try this."
And with that, God rent the very fabric of space and time, and sent all
living beings into eternal oblivion, and god looked down upon his handiwork
and said "Indeed... this is good" and on the seventh day, he played golf.
E-Mail Fredric L. Rice / The Skeptic Tank