Atleast He's Wearing Blue (2276 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.92 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by comicbookguy (View user info) at 2004-10-06 19:56:16 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
To:
From: Buck Naked
Re: "At least he's wearing blue"
Cc: Satan.at.aol.com
For those of you reading this email, please, go to your kitchens, grab a jar of Folgers Crystals from the cupboard, and get a spoon.
Eat the coffee. Please, go ahead and eat it, for you are about to read a chronicle of greed, lust, sexual deviance, and irony the likes of which you have never witnessed. Consequently, the sheer distress, emotion, and heartbreak you will feel from this tale can only be somewhat countered by the mild stimulus provided by spoonfuls of instant coffee.
It was the year 2012 and the United States of America was overrun with lesbians and homosexuals. The population of straights was rapidly declining as gay and lesbian scientists figured out some scientific method where women could impregnate other women, and men could impregnate other men. Straight woman on the other hand decided to concentrate on their careers and corporate slavery offered no time for child birth. The results were uncanny. Gay men started having triplets, quadruplets, and quintuplets. Dykes started having 12 children at a time. It was pandemonium. It was chaos. It was pure, adulterated mayhem. No one knew what to make of it. People started becoming gay for fear of being ridiculed for their straightness. President Arnold Schwarzenegger (due to some mysterious loophole in the constitution) was assassinated by a group of double agent straights for making the movie "Junior." The country was in shambles.
Having been brought up in a conservative, Catholic family, I knew I had to do something to make it right. That is why I joined the LCS: the Lesbian Conversion Society. As a lesbian converter, it was my job to have sex with as many females as possible and eventually convert them into straight women, or at least into bisexuals because that was really hot. It was a tough job, but somebody had to do it. I worked long hard hours, and sometimes it was tough to wake up in the morning, especially when a fat dyke was sitting on your chest, but I kept telling myself that we were pussy licking for the good of a nation.
The LCA rose in membership as one of the world's most powerful organizations. 10,000 men, using their collective penises to convert lesbians left, right and center. In a matter of three months, we had even conquered the unconquerable city known as San Francisco.
A decade into the business, things never looked better. Our affiliate, the Women Administering Head to Turn Gay Men Straight Foundation (or WAHTGMSF for short), was making amazing progress as well. It was a glorious time to be a lesbian converter I tell you. My fear of homosexuals and all things that disagreed with my super awesome view of the world would never be an issue again. I thought I would be converting lesbians forever.
How wrong I was.
The lesbian conversion game is not all pussy licking and anal screwing my friends. Sometimes, people can get hurt. Sometimes, people can get hurt real bad.
I remember one kid.
Mike Hunt.
Hell of a kid. I trained him myself. That kid was the most outstanding young talent the society had ever seen. Movie star good looks, boyish charm, 12 inch penis. In his first year alone he had converted almost 700 lesbians. That was an average of almost two lesbians a day. No one at the society had ever broken the 0.5 lesbian's barrier.
One day, completely unsuspecting to what was going on around him, Mike was eating an ice cream cone. Eating ice cream on cones was part of our off-the-job training. It exercised the tongue and lips and got you into the state of mind needed to convert lesbians. As he ate, he was ambushed by a renegade crack team of rebellious dykes. They dragged him to a warehouse and stripped him of his dignity via the only way a lesbian converter could be stripped of his dignity: anal dildo violation. When we found him, he was practically dead. Ironically, the only thing that was keeping him from bleeding to death was the firmly lodged dildo, violently crammed into his ass crack.
I took the blame for what happened to Mike that fateful night. I don't know why I did, it wasn't really my fault, but as his captain and commanding officer, it seemed like the right thing to do. It was then that I decided that after ten years in the game, perhaps it was time to retire from the Lesbian Conversion Society.
I also realized that I was becoming increasingly attracted to men, and I couldn't let my vile secret slip out. More on that later.
I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do. What was a career I could pursue where I would be subjected to the fame and recognition I achieved as a lesbian converter while still having sex with countless numbers of women?
If you said cologne manufacturer, than you are as correct as an Indian kid in a national spelling bee competition on ESPN2.
I began to design my own cologne. I experimented with a variety of ingredients include paprika, eucalyptus, and talcum powder, but after months of experimentation, I got it down to the perfect ten: vinegar, carpet cleaner, WD-40, Lysol, melted titanium alloy, asparagus, kryptonite, Spiderman's web solution, fluoride, and bazooka Joe gum. As I mixed my concoction in a cauldron with a long wooden spoon, I laughed maniacally. I dipped my finger in it and gave it a taste. Mmm. Mediciney. I also accurately noted that the mixture was turning into a dark shade of blue and thus, the name for the now world famous cologne was born: Blue.
With the hundreds of thousands of dollars I had made in net salary from my senior position at the Lesbian Conversion Society, I hired a top notch advertising team to think of a slogan for my new found creation. After months of deliberation, an idea was brought forth by one of the executives in the form of a commercial.
"A man comes home late one night. He tries to sneak into his bedroom without waking his wife but he fails. His wife awakens and is very angry. She asks him where he's been all night and he claims that he was out screwing prostitutes and doing crack. He apologizes for going out on their anniversary and for the attempted mafia hit on his mother in law. She sighs, gets on her knees, takes off his pants and looks straight into the camera. 'Well....at least he's wearing Blue! She says'"
The camera then goes to a shot of the man's dresser where their just so happens to be a bottle of Blue cologne with the caption, "At least he's wearing Blue!"
It was the perfect ad campaign. It combined an intangible like sex with cologne, a concept that had never been thought of in the history of cologne.
Production of Blue cologne started right away. Millions of bottles were produced each day for the grand opening of my store in New York City. On that one opening day alone, 500,000 bottles were sold. Production needed to be increased ten fold because demand continued to sky rocket. Revenues were 40 billion dollars in the first year. In just one fiscal year of business, Blue Cologne Inc. contributed 14% to the US GDP and had a higher net income than Canada, France, and Germany combined.
I was an instant billionaire and I enjoyed every minute of it. I had sex with thousands of women. Apparently, chicks dig money. The fact that I bathed in Blue Cologne also helped. In fact, in partnership with the Lesbian Conversion Society, Blue helped thousands of lesbian converters worldwide. The sexual, intoxicating aroma of Blue Cologne in conjunction with the Tony Danza-like good looks of the converters made lesbian conversion that much easier. It was a glorious time indeed.
The cologne was so popular that I decided to come out with a whole line of hygienic products: Blue hand cream, Blue deodorant, Blue body wash, Blue shampoo, Blue toothpaste. All of the products were made from the same concoction that I had produced in my basement those many years ago. Well, accept for the toothpaste. That started killing people so we had to change that. But still, that took a lot of convincing from my senior staff. I didn't want to stray away from the formula that had made me billions. We even had a Blue pill, which was just frozen Blue Cologne broken into little pill pieces that when swallowed, would make your bowel movements smell like Blue Cologne.
Unfortunately, my ludicrous rise to fame as a cologne manufacturer was not all blueberries and cream. My greed for money and sex turned me into an obsessive monster. I had to be the world's only cologne manufacturer. Nothing else would satisfy my lust for industry domination. I had Calvin Klein and David Coolwater killed and bought their respective companies. Hugo Boss was drowned in an unfortunate accident. I destroyed the entire Swiss Army with my iron fist. I would not rest until Blue Cologne became the sole monopoly in an oligopolistic industry. All cologne substitute manufacturers were crushed as well. The aftershave industry was massacred. Home Alone was replayed in the theatres and the scene where Macaulay Culkin slaps his face and screams because of aftershave was deleted. I became a madman.
I started having sex with men. It was against everything I believed in as a lesbian converter but I couldn't help myself. I needed to conquer everything that was potentially conquerable.
Rumors began leaking out in the international press that the world renowned womanizer known as Buck Naked was perhaps a closet homosexual. I couldn't let these allegations continue so I married. I chose a trophy wife with an excellent public image that would once and for all put a stop to these relentless rumors.
On the side, I continued to have sex with all of my male models and paid them off to keep their mouths shut. Regardless of that fact, let it be known that they still couldn't resist my Pat Saijack like charm.
Blue cologne sales continued to soar and I eventually became the only cologne manufacturer in the industry. Still, my throat remained parched and my thirst for conquer was not yet relinquished. I bought the Playboy mansion and painted it blue. The bunny's complained at first because they liked the pink, but they eventually saw things my way. In fact, it was a pleasant change from the wrinkly balls and shriveled penis of Hugh Hefner that they were previously used too.
I became obsessed with the color blue. Every item of clothing I owned was blue. My house was blue. My 400 cars were all blue. I only ate blue things. Due to the lack of food that was blue, this meant eating only blue berries, blue cheese dressing and blue M&M's. This also meant bathing in blue berries, blue cheese dressing and blue M&M's in addition to my regular baths in Blue Cologne.
My "At least he's wearing Blue" ad campaign became the single most profitable advertisement of all time. Still, I wanted more. I tried to buy every 30 second spot during the Super Bowl; when CBS declined, I bought them and stabbed Dan Rather in the face for good measure.
The slogan became so ingrained in popular culture that it was used in everyday situations and even toppled such famous slogans as "there's always room for Jell-O" and "Try Applebee's new baby back ribs."
For 30 years I ruled an iron fist over the cologne industry. I had Donald Trump brutally murdered and bought all of his real estate. I was unstoppable. I became increasingly mad. The international community realized that I needed to be stopped and yet, I continued to hunger greater conquests. I had conquered women. I had conquered men. I had conquered the cologne industry. It was time to conquer a country. I decided to invade Greenland and change its name to Blueland. My super army of Blue foot soldiers took over the country and assassinated Greenland prime minister Hans Enoksen.
I hated the irony that Greenland was called so even though it was cold and full of ice. However, it was the perfect country to conquer because blue was indicative of cold and I was a sucker for imagery.
The entire world turned against me. The United Nations had an emergency meeting to discuss how they would deal with my madman like nature. How quickly they had forgotten that it was I who got them all laid due to the intoxicating nature of Blue Cologne. Seriously, who would fuck Kofi Annan voluntarily? No one, that's who.
On the 36th day of my conquest of Greenland, a coalition of US, German, and Polish troops invaded Blueland. They formed a vice like grip around my giant mansion and began dropping bombs with B53 bombers. It was a dramatic upgrade from the previously used B52 bombers.
They weren't going to get me alive though. Luckily, before building my 10,000 square foot complex, I had a hole built which lead to a lavish underground dwelling, fully equipped with surround sound television, ping pong table, and two male Chinese prostitutes.
As the coalition continued to drop bombs on me, I knew that the end was near. My quest for world domination was not to be. I kind of felt like Hitler when he was trapped in his compound before the end of the Nazi's reign of terror, except I didn't have the queer moustache, and my Eva Brown was two Chinese prostitutes.
I watched on television as my compound continued to be bombarded. However, I knew it would be a few days before they found my underground hideout. I decided to make the most of those last few days by having sex with the prostitutes.
Unfortunately, fate can be a cruel, cruel mistress, and in cohesion with irony, can lead to consequences that would give an English teacher an orgasm.
Due to this cruel twist of fate that I speak of, it was sex with a Chinese man that eventually led to my death on day three of the UN occupation. Regrettably, because of all the sex I had with thousands of men, women, and monkeys, my balls became so swelled with blood that they exploded.
The irony? Homosexual sex, which I fought so bravely against when I was a member of the Lesbian Conversion Society, led to blue balls, which eventually lead to my death. The exploding of the balls lead to massive amounts of blood loss that no dildo could contain.
To clear things up a little, I should let you know that I am writing to you from Hell. Apparently, god doesn't look too highly upon murdering people, conquering countries, and having gay sex. Satan is not too bad though. He let me mass email a bunch of people I got off of some random mailing list so they could hear my story. Plus, I was used to all the anal sex, so being porked by Satan didn't sting as much.
The only thing that I don't like is that my smashing blue ensemble clashes with the fiery depths of hell.
In fact, you could say it's making me feel........kind of blue.
My only hope now, as I find a way to escape the underworld, is that my hundreds of illegitimate bastard children will some how band together and continue the company that their father built. Too bad Hell only has dialup.
***********************************************************************************************
Little Billy was surfing the Internet. As he checked his email, he noticed he had new mail from a Mr. Naked, so he clicked it open. He then ran into the kitchen and ate some instant coffee. He then ran back to the computer room and began to read. As he read, his eyes widened with each word. He scurried to the living room where his father was reading the newspaper.
"Daddy?"
His father looked up. "Yes son?"
"Who...who was Buck Naked?" he innocently asked.
The man dropped his glass of Chardonnay. "Where did you hear that name?!" he gasped. Little Billy took his fathers hand and led him to the computer where the email window remained open. As Billy's father began to read, tears rolled down his cheeks.
He knelt down on one knee and looked Billy in the eye. "Buck Naked is a man you won't learn about in your history books Billy. Any documentation of the man's life was destroyed many, many years ago. In short, Buck Naked was the greatest businessman of all time Billy. And.....and he was my father."
He then got up, and wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Come Billy," he said, grabbing a can of WD-40 and a stock of asparagus. "We have work to do."
Billy eagerly followed his father.
From the fiery depths of Hell, Buck Naked smiled.
Either because of that, or because Satan was having sex with him. Still, he smiled.
User Reviews
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2007-02-06 08:20:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fucking AWESOME! I'm adding this to my favorites!
Easily one of the best UM entries of all time.
Submitted by Average_Dan (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:55:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Ironically, the only thing that was keeping him from bleeding to death was the firmly lodged dildo, violently crammed into his ass crack."
I just pissed all over myself!!
On an Ubermadness post! I hope this advanced you!
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2005-06-07 13:16:45 EDT (#)
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No Comment
Submitted by Wazza (user info) at 2005-02-27 16:00:05 EST (#)
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Yesssssss.
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sorry
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fuck sorry
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no COMMENT
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