C0rpse Issue 3 Tom the Unfortunate Aardvark Well, I'm back again with another lovely file

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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. "Come again??" "It isn't." "Isn't what?" "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 thought). "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 masterpece. 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 looking object. "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." "ok." 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 ground." "Oh yes, I suppose it is... looks more like parchment to me tho, not a scroll." "Oh?? no, I believe it to be a scroll... looky how it curls up at the ends there." "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 yellow tinge..." "it's beige" "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?" "Not really." "Oh... what's it say" "How should I know?" "Well you're holding it aren't you?" "Yes" "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 scroll: 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 Yodel-A-E-OOOOO It's a small world after all Yodel-A-E-OOOOO It's a small world after all Yodel-A-E-OOOOO 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 bellybuttons"... ENOUGH! 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 flood. "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. Panther


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