Finger-Licking God

The weary traveler pulls into the cracked and craggeled grounds of the Colonel’s temple of sacrifice. Peckish, perhaps even famined, he lowers the glass barrier of the vehicle door to beg to the electric gods.

Pictographs depicting desecrated corpses of fowl, buckets of flesh and bone, vegetation obliterated and slathered in the rendered paste of the dead enshrine tablets of metal and polycarbonate. The grotesque display terrifies the poor traveler, but his stomach grumbles in pain.

His voice trembles as he beseeches the gods: “Do… Do you have chicken sandwiches?” He shoves his digits into his mouth and bites at his nails, scraping away dirt and debris with every nibble.

“We have chicken littles,” the tone croaks in an almost human voice. The travelers teeth draw blood.

He fears his question has angered them, but he can’t turn back now. His hunger too strong, he must make this plea work. “I’ll just have a bucket… of chicken.”

They hear his request and pause before saying anything. He licks the blood off his fingers before it drips onto his hand. “What would you like to drink?”

The traveler has had nothing but water for what seems like a lifetime. His mind wanders back to his youth when the harsh bubbles of Coke hit his tongue for the first time on a hot summer morning. “I’ll have a Coca-Cola.”

“WE HAVE PEPSI,” it responds.

The memories of a time before the bitterness of the Earth had eroded its way to the surface must have clouded his judgment. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. A Pepsi is fine,” he grovels.

Another pause draws more blood from his gnarled phalanges. “Pull forward for your total.” The last request from the metal voice. He must now face the things that should not be.

Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem

Tartar control

cavity control

control over your whole damn mouth.

Why does toothpaste have to be

THIS

difficult?

It’s all just mint-flavored

fluoride

in a tube, right?

Oh.

I’m sorry.

This one’s “herbal mint”.

What exactly does that mean?

Am I going to get green bits

stuck in my teeth?

Is there kale in it?

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE KALE?!

Let’s just simplify things a bit.

Throw out your 3Ds White and

your Pros-Health.

Stick with just the classics:

white paste

blue paste

and bubble gum—you know, for kids.

5 Things You Won't Believe You Are Doing Wrong

1. Eating Pasta

You probably eat pasta with a fork, right? Well, YOU’RE WRONG! Pasta is actually meant to be eaten with your toes. That’s right, according to Dominic Pastarelli—the 12th century Italian monk who invented what we now know as “pasta”—the gunk and odors of the human foot are essential ingredients to this carbo-licious dish. That’s why Olive Garden uses active live cultures collected from real human feet in all their pasta recipes. It helps to simulate that authentic flavor even when using a metal fork.

It’s also especially important not to clean between your toes before doing this. The lint that gets trapped in there provides a host of nutrients such as fiber and protein.

2. Getting Out of Bed

When you get up in the morning, do you toss off the covers, sit up, and then slide out of bed? If so, you are a horrible monster! The real way to get out of bed is so much better. Ever wonder why both mattresses and trampolines are made out of springs? It’s because they were both made for bouncing! That’s right, you are supposed to literally jump out of bed.

Tomorrow morning when your alarm, cat, or human child wake you up, get out of bed correctly. Toss off the covers like normal, then stand up on the mattress and start bouncing. How many times you bounce depends on your religious preferences. Pope Francis bounces three times in observance of the Holy Trinity, whereas the Dalai Lama bounces eight times in honor of the Buddha’s Noble Eightfold Path. Check with your local religious leaders to find out the correct number of bounces for you, or if you’re secular, bounce as many times as you see fit. After the bouncing is finished, it’s time to leap toward the start of your new day!

3. Exorcisms

Ever since The Exorcist terrified movie audiences back in 1973, exorcisms have become as commonplace as your morning coffee. But did you know that the film has led to us all performing this ritual incorrectly?

While it certainly sounds cool to recite prayers in Latin and to tell demons, “The power of Christ compels you,” this isn’t the correct way to expel evil. According to the Treaty of Hell and Earth—an agreement reached between 19th century heads of state from around the globe and the Satanic Congress—the real way to banish ghouls requires that you first place a drop of milk of magnesia on the host’s forehead. Let the possessor know what it is beforehand and they will sit still while you apply the drop. Next, recite the phrase, “Earth demon, Earth demon, wouldst thou scram?” If done correctly, this method works 100% of the time.

4. Putting On Pants

We all know the expression, “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of you,” but did you know that this is actually the wrong way to put on pants? Pants were actually designed to be put on both legs at the same time. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that one legged pants-putting-on-ers emerged.

Silent film star Lester “Legs” McGillicuddy kicked off the disastrous trend that lives on today. In his 1907 feature film Dr. Barnacle’s Emporium of Pants, McGillicuddy played a man who was shopping for a pair of pants. When he goes to try on the pants, he puts a separate pair of pants on each leg. The salesman asks him in the title card, “What are you doing?” McGillicuddy responded with, “I put my pants on one leg at a time.” And thus a fashion disaster began.

5. Raising the Dead

Anyone who lives by a busy highway knows that when your pet or favorite little human gets run over by a semi truck whose driver is too busy listening to the Ramones to pay attention to the road, that you simply scrape their corpse off the pavement and bury them under some rocks in your local neighborhood Mi’kmaq burial ground. Have you ever noticed, though, that they always come back a little bit murderous? It’s because you’re doing it wrong, stupid!

The proper way to raise the dead is an insanely easy process. It’s so easy, once you try it, you’ll never do it any other way again. As before, you’ll want to scrape your loved one’s remains off of the road. Be extra sure to do this before any scavengers begin to feast. You don’t want to attract rats. Next, grate some tannis root onto the corpse. If you don’t have the fresh stuff, pre-ground tannis root powder will work in a pinch, though the dead might not smell as good once they are reanimated. Next, slice your hand and drizzle your blood on their body while reciting the incantation, “Klaatu Barada Nikto.” Keep chanting until you feel a force throw you backwards and the dead rises again. 

Dear The Hershey Company,

Has anybody in your chocolate empire ever actually eaten a Kit-Kat bar? I only ask because your latest ads make some egregious errors in regards to the product in question. First of all, you cannot make music snapping and breaking Kit-Kats as they do not produce a delightful pop sound. Until you make your candy out of those short-lived biodegradable Sun Chips bags, the wafers will merely produce a dull crisp sound. 

I’m willing to let that slide, though—a phrase that your child slaves wish they heard instead of being struck by one of your slave drivers. A little artistic license to sell your product is perfectly reasonable. HOWEVER, I will not tolerate this notion that people eat their Kit-Kats by first breaking them in half. This is not how your product works. It is to be snapped along the perforated lines and then eaten as individual sticks. Not half-sticks, full-on sticks. Sure, some people probably do break them in half first, but they are fools, and their stupidity is not to be promoted on the television. Not in my America!

I clicked on a Buzzfeed link

I clicked on a Buzzfeed link. It felt so bizarre that I felt compelled to write a poem about it. This is in its initial form, so lucky you! You get to see it before I mangle it! (Or, more likely, forget about it for a while, then resurrect it in an almost completely unrecognizable form.)

I clicked on a Buzzfeed link.

It wouldn’t be fair to call it an article. 
Articles have    depth
                         research
         fucking paragraphs.

This was a list, of sorts,
only it wasn’t
made up of words.

It had videos
behaving like looping .GIF files
but with sound.

Each video headlined
with what looked like words
but had no inherent meaning
to me and my English degree.

This was a list of things
ruined by white people,
yet the genocide of the American Indians
is ranked five spots below
Cigarillos.

Vigilantazmo

The door crumbles into a pile of dust, shards, and slivers waiting to implant into the next fool who dares walk through this studio apartment barefooted.

“Oh shit,” Roger—a hired goon tasked with guarding the teenaged ransom victim tied-up and passed out on the sofa bed—says as he spots the crimson-caped wonder—Vigilantazmo. He sets his piece down on the ground and holds up his empty hands. “Look, Mr. Vigilantazmo, I don’t want any trouble here! I’m just a grunt! I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.” He closes his eyes and braces for pain.

Vigilantazmo lets out a deep belly laugh as he paces toward the Ikea nightstand. “Anything, huh? Then tell me, does this place belong to you?” the super hero asks, stroking the piece of furniture.
Roger opens his eyes and answers, “Ye-ye-yessir.”

“So that means that you own all this furniture,” Vigilantazmo lifts the nightstand up to his eye level and reads the bottom, “including Hemnes here?”

“Look, j-ju-just take the girl! Just don’t hurt me!” Roger pleads, tears mixing with sweat to form a nice face broth.

“I’m not interested in the girl, scum.” Vigilantazmo takes a few practice swings with the nightstand, as if he was next at-bat. “You appear to have been gentle to this child. If only you had been this kind to Mr. Larry Stevens over on Third Avenue.”

Roger scratches his head, soaking up little bits of blood into his finger nails. “I-I-I think y-you have the wrong guy. I don’t know a Larry Stevens.”

“HA! Of course you don’t, slime!” Vigilantazmo walks over to Roger and holds the Hemnes up to his face. A yellow stain forms on the carpet beneath Roger. “He runs, rather, he ran a furniture shop. He did pretty well until greedy pieces of human garbage like yourself started buying your furniture from foreign INVADERS like Ikea.”

“It’s the best I could afford.”

“Don’t try to justify yourself to me. You know, when I discovered that I was all-powerful, capable of doing most anything while possessing but one weakness, you know what I swore an oath to do?” Vigilantazmo pauses, looking up at the ceiling waiting for Roger to shake his head no. “I swore on my adoptive mother’s grave that I will never refrigerate my tomatoes, and to stop FILTH like you from littering the streets again!” He wrenches the nightstand back and strikes Roger across the face, breaking off one of the table legs in the process. He quips, “That’s why you always buy American,” before kicking Roger in the stomach a few times. “Now stay put. I’m not done with you yet.”

Vigilantazmo walks back to where the door once stood and picks up one of the shards of oak. “It’s time to drain that pathetic throat of yours of all its blood. There will be justice for Larry Stevens!”

Roger blindly reaches around the ground until he feels that familiar coldness of his handgun. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Roger croaks from his broken jaw.

“USA!” Vigilantazmo screams as he runs toward Roger, carrying the wood shard like a primitive spear.

Roger aimed the gun toward Vigilantazmo and squeezed the trigger. Boom. Headshot. The hero fell straight to the ground as his brains spilled onto the carpet, ruining any chance Roger had at getting his deposit back.

“OH MY GOD!” the ransom victim attempts to scream through her gagged mouth.


“I guess his only weakness,” Roger smirks his swollen face, “was a bullet to the head.”

Another day at Starbucks...

As many of you may know, I started working at Starbucks a month-and-some-change ago. The change in scenery and such doesn't seem to have affected my snark-levels. Anyway, here's something I wrote in regards to annoying customers:

We’re closed

Oh—
  I didn’t realize it was you:
THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN HUMAN HISTORY.

No wonder you drove on past that menu board—
  the one that says in red:
  THE STORE IS NOW CLOSED.

You are clearly too important
  (and too wealthy)
for us to ignore.

What can I get started for you?