2005-07-29 - 9:18 p.m.
Heres another one of those whacky episodes for you to endure. I mean, enjoy.
"Oh no!" said Pimp, as the door banged again, which was kind of toned down from his last reaction, or possibly the reaction that this bang had gotten from his fellow bandmate, Gimp. Just to clarify, once again, Gimp was the guitarist, and Pimp was the lead singer. Pimp had a broken eyebrow, which, I seem to recall, was possessed by the shrimp that said the slightly more inflamatory remark made earlier by...
BANG!!!
Gimp was cowering in the corner, trying to appear unconcerned with the large bangs which were coming from outside.
BANG!!!
"Argh!" said Gimp. Nymph came out of the limpettes' changing room. "What the hell is going on!?!" she said. "I'm trying to, erm, do stuff, in here."
"Yeah, well, I was trying to do stuff out here." said Keys, once again going for the sympathy vote. "Like trying to get you slackers to help me out with this song that I..."
"...Spent all of last night writing." said Pimp, waving his arms around in a mock conductor style manner.
"Then what the hell is..." she started.
BANG!!!
"Hey, guys!" came a voice from outside. "Its Skitzo dude, let me in!"
"What?" asked everyone in unison, which pleased Nymph no end.
"It's Skitzo man, let me in!" he shouted.
"Oh." said Gimp, who suddenly regained his composure. "Well thats OK then." He swam over to the door, and let Skitzo in. Skitzo swam past him at top speed.
"Hey dude, whats the rush?" asked Gimp. "I'm supposed to be the speedy one around here, so innured as I am in the nature of all things motor-vehicularlararily."
"Theres a huge f*** off loan shark chasing me, close the door man!!!" replied Skitzo.
"Oh no!" said Gimp and Pimp.
And that is it. Short, isnt it?
So short, in fact, that I may add another...
And this here is the last of the digitally remastered episodes, so the next one may take some time in coming. Enjoy it while you can.
Saxy and Riffi were floating about over at the whale weigh station (The jokes do actually get worse than this.) Riffi was a bit on edge, considering the things that had gone on this morning, and was surveying the scene. Saxy didn't really care. He was more concerned with attracting the attention of a group of lady folk who were pointing and giggling, in that godawful, annoying, infurating, insane rage inducing way that they have. Fucking women. When will they learn that men have feelings too, probably more so than they do, and that those feelings are not to be toyed with lightly. Or heavily for that matter. Well, they will have to learn. And learn they shall. I shall teach them, by fair means or...
"I dont like this, man" said Riffi.
"And what dont you like about this situation, dude," said Saxy.
"Well, for a start, I'm not too sure about this train of thought."
"Ah, forget that, it'll leave in a minute."
And, just like that, the bitter, slightly misogynistic train of thought pulled out of the station, and headed on its not so merry way into the dark depths of some other part of the ocean that was the authors mind. (?) Riffi shivered at its departure, not quite understanding what that whole thing was about.
"What was all that about?" he asked Saxy.
"You got me man, I don't have much time for these weird trains of thought. If I were running this town, I'd get rid of them altogether."
"So what are we gonna do?" asked Riffi.
"Well, we could write a letter to the mayor, but, y'know, as famous as we are, I don't think we have THAT much pull in this..."
"I wasn't talking about the f***ing train!" shouted Riffi. The women stopped giggling and pointing. They kinda turned away in a huff. Bloody women.
"I think that train left some of it's cargo behind." said Riffi.
"Dude!" said Saxy, "Would you stop? You're spoiling my image here. I'm about to get us both laid."
"I don't care about that!" shouted Riffi again. Saxy took a long hard look at his friend, and stepped away a few times, subtly covering his ass.
"You dont?"
"We have more important things to worry about right now." Riffi stated.
"Dude," said Saxy "What could possibly be more important than getting laid?"
Riffi took a long hard look at his friend. "Is there something wrong with your mind? I mean, are you actually deficient in some way? What the hell do you mean, what could be more important than getting laid?!?"
Saxy took another few steps away. "Well, y'know, there is the music, but hey, what good is that if we don't get frequent sex?"
Riffi, who, unlike his bandmate, had not crashed, or been unoffically invited to, a party containing lots of bikini'd shrimpettes the previous night, shrimpettes who said bandmate had probably (actually) had hours and hours of steamy hot Roman style orgy sex with, and had in fact not had any kind of, steamy hot Roman style orgy or even boring mum and dad missionary on a Sunday afternoon style sex for quite some time, was somewhat disturbed by his bandmates lack of caring about any other issues other than the aforementioned carnal dirtyness that his bandmate seemed so concerned with.
"Fucking hell." said Saxy. "What kinda weird f***ed up confused train of sex thought is that?" he asked.
Viewers ears bled.
"I'm talking about the Prawnfathers walrus skin rug tusks." said Riffi.
"Oh, that. Look, man" said Saxy, "If you want to worry your little feelers off about some dumb assed f***ing gangster and his f***ing crap little piece of s*** rug, then you go ahead, meanwhile, I'm going to see to these lady folk here."
Saxy turned to face the not insignificant barrel of a guppygun, which was being held by one of Don Caviarvi's octopus wiseguys.
"Oh no!" Said Riffi.
"Yo, shrimps, the don wants to speak to you." said wiseguy number one.
"Oh no." Reiterated Riffi...
To be continued...
