Couldn'T Say It (472 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.71 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Slovin (View user info) at 2004-09-16 21:35:21 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Time, N. : a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future.
Space, N. : an extent in one, two, or three dimensions.
Microwave Oven, N. : an oven in which food is cooked by the heat produced by the absorption of microwave energy by water molecules in the food.
...although no one really knows for sure. And indeed it seems we may need to redefine all of these terms in light of recent events, or perhaps levy a tax on recreational mushrooms, for reasons explained later.
The present situation is as follows:
There is a man in an armchair holding a moist frog to his temple. His name is Evan.
There is another man standing near a window looking out at a vast sea of small, angry orange men. He is frowning, as most people would do when confronted with a vast sea of small, angry orange men outside of one's window. His name is Darius.
For the purpose of setting your mind at ease, there is no death in this story, with the slight exception of a single unfortunate accident that takes the life of an unlucky sea turtle, and an explosion that causes no damage whatsoever to anything.
Now that you know what's going on, I can continue to tell you the story of how this began.
...
[Tuesday]
...
"I want that banana," Evan said, tearing open another box of cereal.
"How many box tops do you have so far?" Darius asked from across the table. He flipped casually through the channels on the TV.
"Four hundred fifty-six, and I only need forty-four more. Now eat your damn cereal."
"If you want that stupid banana so bad, why not just dump out all the cereal and take the box tops?"
"Are you fucking insane? Do you have ANY IDEA the amount of essential vitamins they put in these things?"
"I guess you're right."
"Damn right I'm right. Now balance your fucking breakfast so we can live like kings on our low-carb lifestyle!"
Darius added some more soda to his bowl. A giant South American banana carved into the shape of a motorcycle would be a nice conversation piece for the guest room, he thought, just before he remembered that they don't have a guest room, at which point he rescinded his previous thought, and followed it with a question:
"Where the hell did our milk go?"
Evan, ignoring him, got up to get another box of cereal out of the pantry. As he did so, he spotted at the front door, with the aid of a large hole in the wall that refused to obstruct his line of sight, a man in a brown uniform standing at the front door. DING-DONG, the doorbell didn't ring. It was broken, after all. No one knew why.
He set the cereal on the table and walked around into the front room, despite the fact that he could easily have gone through the wall.
It was a pretty big hole. No one knew why.
"Mr. Edson? Delivery from Frito-Lay. They've attached a restraining order to the box."
"Thanks," he said, signing the clipboard and closing the door.
"What'd you get?" Darius asked, coming through the wall.
"Must be that microwave I won," he responded.
"I see they don't want you sending in any more letters," Darius observed, detaching the restraining order from the box and reading it.
"The commercial said you could earn more sweepstakes points if you gave them feedback, and damnit, that's what I did."
"Not a letter a day for three years after the contest ends."
"Well they should have said that then. Come on, let's go set this bitch up."
They went back to the kitchen, cleared the table, and opened the box.
It was as if Evan was staring into the bitter depths of hell. The horror he saw at that moment was like nothing a man his age could ever hope to see. He staggered backwards slightly and grabbed the counter for support.
"Some assembly required," Darius read, turning pale.
...
[Thursday]
...
"I think I got it," Evan said finally, snapping the front cover onto the microwave.
"Plug it in!" Darius said eagerly, having just spent a full 51-and-a-half hours attempting to assemble the microwave from scratch, as opposed to Evan, who collapsed 12 hours in from exhaustion and woke up 10 hours later, immediately siezing his soldering iron and continuing his work.
Evan plugged it in.
...
[Sunday]
...
Evan struck the floor with the force of... well, I'm no good at Physics, so I'll say it was with the force of something filled with a lot of really heavy things, which is a lot.
Darius, being a noble and loyal heterosexual lifemate, followed suit.
"What the fuck was that?" Evan managed to say, as he tried to get up.
Gravity had other plans. He fell, landed flat on his stomach, and grunted.
"I have no clue," Darius said, punching gravity in the face and standing up. He went on to kick gravity squarely in the nuts and helped Evan up with him.
Evan looked around and was dumbstruck. Everything was horribly, horribly wrong.
"Damnit, dude, I told you not to leave your fucking sweater on the kitchen table," he said angrily, picking it up and throwing it at Darius.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, going into his room.
"Much better," Evan said, looking around.
"Hey, Evan," Darius called from his room.
"What?"
"Can you come here and give me a second opinion on this?"
"I guess," he said, walking into the next room.
"What did you need?"
"Can you tell me who the fuck that is?" he asked, pointing to his bed.
Actually, it would be more accurate to say he was pointing at the person IN his bed. And purely for the sake of accuracy, he was pointing at himself.
"Looks a lot like you," Evan said, getting his anti-personnel security device from the closet.
"Put the fucking bat away. It IS me, man, he's wearing my socks."
"So maybe he broke in and put 'em on."
"No, I mean, he's wearing MY socks, my Snoopie socks. The ones I have on now," he said, pulling up his pant leg. "And the calendar says it's last Sunday," he added, gesturing to the wall, which indeed had their tear-off calendar on it, currently on Sunday.
They stood silent for a while, pretending not to want to wake the other Darius up, but in actuality they didn't have a damn thing to say. They were in the fucking past.
"We're in the fucking past," Evan said, walking into the kitchen.
"Hey, Evan, wait," Darius said, following him.
"What?"
"Would you say... I mean, If I was to - "
"No, that's not masturbating, you sick fuck."
Darius stopped talking.
For whatever reason, Evan chose that exact moment to notice that their microwave was sitting in the middle of a rather large hole in the kitchen wall.
"If it's last Sunday, what the hell is that doing here?"
"I was wondering how the hell that bigass hole got there," Darius said.
"No, the microwave."
"Oh. I don't know."
They stood there for a really long time.
"I'm gunna go plug it in," Evan said at last.
As surprising as it may seem, this turned out to be a fantastically bad idea.
...
[Tuesday]
...
Standing on top of his own roof looking out over the fine landscape of the state of Wyoming, Evan wondered if plugging in the microwave was indeed such a good idea after all.
It was not the fine landscape of the state of Wyoming that caused this thought to cross his mind, however. It was more the presence of a large army of small, angry orange men on his front lawn.
Darius frowned.
Evan glanced around once more. When he realized that the landscape was, in fact, composed largely of bricks of mozarella cheese, he decided he should probably find the microwave and plug it in again.
This idea, ironically, was a good one, with the slight exception of all the bad consequences. And the electric bill.
He found the microwave on top of the chimney he didn't realize they had and carried it through the attic window, plugging it into the wall socket.
Nothing happened.
Nothing happened with such force that it knocked him onto the floor and produced a large amount of frogs and sea turtles all around the house. He jumped to his feet and ran out of the room in a panic, accidentally stepping on a turtle and bumping his head on his way out.
"What happened to you?" Darius asked.
"Frogs," Evan replied simply.
"And turtles," Darius observed. "That looks like a nasty bruise. You'd better lay down."
"I guess," he said. "How bad is it?"
"Ever see the movie 'Gigli'?"
Evan threw up.
"Wow, that's pretty bad. I'd better lay down."
He threw himself onto the armchair and stared at the wall. A frog hopped onto his bruised head. The room was silent for a moment.
"There's a frog on your head," Darius said.
"I'm aware of that," he replied.
Silence.
"You're just gunna leave it there?"
"Feels good."
Silence.
"Alright man, whatever."
In the distance, the sound of an explosion is heard.
...
[Wednesday]
...
All was now quiet in the kitchen.
"Hey, would you mind cutting that the fuck out? I have a headache," Evan said finally, looking in my direction.
A few moments of silence pass as he sat in his chair with a frog to his head.
"STOP the damn typing," he clarified after a moment.
"You've been following us around for days now and the click of those keys is starting to get to me. Either stop typing or I can go over there and slam your face into that keyboard," he warned.
Although I had been wanting to tell them for some time that I was a mute, via my computer screen, they had been ignoring me with the greatest patience I've ever seen two men display.
I also couldn't tell them not to take those mushrooms a few days ago.
Silence again returned to the room, when suddenly Evan stomped quickly towards me, grabbed me by the back of my heahyjunhyyhy67uthhyuhttrgfvtrgft56
User Reviews
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-07-15 06:13:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
hitchhikers guide anyone??
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-06-20 16:33:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-06-18 23:02:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hope you get into UM III. i remember this post, and loved it. you have my vote, buddy.
Submitted by williamson (user info) at 2005-04-13 05:32:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kochier is a nuking bastard. Bart-Bart, I can't see how you can ban brendan but not this guy.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-04-13 02:04:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for being the victim of a spam attack
Submitted by Slovin (user info) at 2005-04-13 01:53:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by kochier (user info) at 2005-04-12 20:50:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
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Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-03-28 22:33:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 12:31:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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