Pnårp’s February, 2008 whizzing & giggling

A whiz and a giggle

Whizgiggled at on February 3, 2008

Tags: feet, toes, Alyssa Milano, buttocks, death, dogs, gluefish, gorillas, nose, Pam and Meg, penis.

I received the most intriguing email missive last night. Normally I dispose of all the email I receive, 90% of which are threats to find out who I am and have me forcibly institutionalized, but this email caught my eye. (And, got caught in my throat when I tried to swallow one of the copies I printed out.) This inscrutable message read:

Virgins always whizgiggled at me and even fellows did in the national bathroom! Well, now I laugh at them, because I took Meg, a dik. for 6 months and now my shaft is terribly bigger than world.

I pondered over its meaning for almost four hours. “Whizgiggle?” I wondermuttered. “Whatever does ‘whizgiggle’ mean, and why would a virgin ‘whizgiggle’ at the sender of this strange message?” I continued pondering until I nearly fell out of my chair. Yappie, my faithful hound, yapped at me in amusement.

And what, pray tell, was the “national bathroom”? Was this some sort of bathroom funded by the federal government? A taxpayer-funded bathroom? Why was this person using it? Why were these virgins “whizgiggling” at him therein? Curiouser and curiouser…

Finally, and this is what truly tied my brain in knots, I wondered what the expression “took Meg, a dik. for 6 months” was supposed to mean. Did this whizgiggling victim take a “dik” to some person named “Meg”, for six straight months? What was a “dik”? Who was this Meg? Was this Meg one of the virgins who had so callously whizgiggled at the writer of this email?! Was this Meg of Pam & Meg’s fame?! Why were there spurious commas and periods in this sentence??! And why did it take six months??!??!

I leapt from my chair, shrieking with grim determination. The table flipped over on its side, striking Yappie on the head. Yappie yapped, yelped, yurgled, and leapt to his own feet, knocking me on my buttocks and overturning a large vase, which fell against my fish tank, cracking the glass and spilling my prized gluefish all over my precious hardwood floors.

“Yappie! My gluefish! Look what you’ve done!” I howled as they stuck to the floor, dying. Dying. My beautiful gluefish. Adhering and dying.

I growled. My grim determination turned into a burning rage, burning hotter than the heat of a thousand Alyssa Milano posters—even the ones of her barefoot and naked. My anger flared, in sync with my nostrils. My eyes narrowed; my fists clenched… even my toes curled inward slightly. I pounded my chest like a furious gorilla. Yappie yelped and slinked off before he became the target of my unrelenting wrath.

“I’ll get you, you whizgiggling virgins, if it’s the last… thing… I… ever… do…”

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A pox upon your whizgiggling!

Avenged on February 10, 2008

Tags: death, gluefish.

Virgins always whizgiggled at me and even fellows did in the national bathroom! Well, now I laugh at them, because I took Meg, a dik. for 6 months and now my shaft is terribly bigger than world.

Those two sentences are burned into my brain forever. Hatred. Rage. Vengeance. Vengeance shall be mine, for what these whizgiggling whores have done to my precious gluefish. Vengeance… terribly bigger than world. Terribly… bigger… than world.

Vengeance shall be mine…

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A whole pile of flapdoodles from Shitlingthorpe

Recollected on February 17, 2008

Tags: feet, alabaster, California, death, gluefish, gnomes, pincer monkeys, porcupines, Shitlingthorpe.

Apparently, as I discovered this week, vengeance was not to be mine—but a pile of fresh Shitlingthorpe-Alabaster Flapdoodles sure was, and how I came to procure, against my will, such an enormous heap of flapdoodles is a highly amusing tale that I shall now recollect for my slavering, slobbering readers (this means you, pointy).

Last Sunday, immediately after scribbling “Vengeance shall be mine…” in my web blob, I leapt from my chair, howled at the ceiling fan for six minutes, then scampered outdoors barefoot, intent on exacting the vengeance that should have been mine against the whizgiggling virgins that had so callously caused the death of my tankful of precious, precious gluefish. I was off, in search of the national bathroom that held these fiendish harpies.

However, I didn’t get far before I was accosted by scores of berserk pincer monkeys, once again. I tried my darnedest to fend them off, spatula in one hand, and pincer-remover in the other, but it was, alas, all in vain—as lithe porcupines slithered along my veins, exiting furiously through my wide-open pores, pincer monkey after pincer monkey assaulted me until there was nothing left of yours truly but a small puddle of goo in the driveway.

Suddenly realizing that the pincer monkeys must have been in cahoots with the nefarious whizgiggling virgins, I leapt from my driveway, leaping upward and inward at the same time, and quickly reconstituted myself as a human being replete with bones and other things that help hold me up and hold my ugly bag of mostly water together. Then, I hooted like an owl.

For seventeen minutes.

Suddenly realizing that the sun was setting—descending upon my house like a bat out of northern California, intent on crashing through my roof and burning my house to the ground in a 5,500°C blaze—I shrieked unholy matrimonies, through my car through my own window, and scampered back into the safe, safe safety that was my house. It was so safe that not even the gnomes could penetrate it anymore.

It was also airtight, which eventually led to my death on Monday morning.

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Dead again

Decomposed after February 24, 2008

Tags: death.

I am still dead. One cannot wreak unforgiving vengeance upon anonymous, whizgiggling virgins while one is dead.

Check back later next week, please.

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