Total Pageviews

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Johnny Cactus


“Sweet Cactus Jesus, it is HOT!” Johnny said, as he stared up at the mid-day sun. Johnny was a 10 foot saguaro cactus, the only one around for miles.
                “Oh my god, I think I’m blacking out,” replied Jeffrey, the cactus mouse who, three hours ago, had slipped and impaled his back left leg on one of Johnny’s spines.
                “Do you ever stop bitching Jeffrey? Like, seriously? Is there like an off switch I can flip?” Johnny sighed and looked once again up at the unforgiving sun. Johnny hated the sun. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to live in a nice, shady forest, maybe somewhere in Germany. Instead he was stuck here, in some god-forsaken desert in the American southwest. The only interesting thing that ever happened was occasionally some drunken teenagers would come out to the desert and have bonfires and parties. But did they ever offer Johnny a beer? No.
                “Fucking teenagers he muttered. Am I right Jeff?”
                “I can’t move the toes on my leg anymore. I… I think the nerves are dead.”
                “Stop trying to make everything about you Jeffrey.”
                Johnny once again resumed his favorite activity, willing his roots to move. He focused all his energy into lifting those roots, all of his dreams, and desires and his pain from the awful heat, his anger at the big flaming bastard in the sky. He could feel his roots twitching, the cellulose contracting. Just a bit more…
                “I have a family…” Jeffrey muttered, “I have sixteen children…”
                “God damn it Jeffrey!” Johnny said, “I am THIS close to escaping this blazing hell and you are just ruining it.”
                “I’m so thirsty…”
                “I bet you are Jeffrey. Maybe if you would keep your mouth shut for one second, you wouldn’t be so dehydrated. Now shut up and let me do this!”
                Johnny went back to concentrating on his roots and, sure enough, he felt them begin to move. With a girlish squeal of delight Johnny lifted himself off the ground on his roots. He swayed for a second and then dropped himself back down.
                “I did it Jeffrey! Now if I can just…”
                He lifted himself once again and slowly but surely inched forward on his roots.
                “Yes!” he shouted, “Yes! I’m moving! We’re getting the hell out of here Jeffrey!”
                “I think the bleeding’s finally stopped but the leg is dead.” Jeffrey sobbed.
                “Wow Jeff, way to take my big moment and make it all about you. Great job.” 
                With some practice, Johnny was able to shuffle himself forward a foot, then a another, and another, and soon he was marching across the desert at a brisk pace.
                “I can’t believe it!” He cried, as he shuffled through the desert, “I’m walking! The world is my oyster!” Soon he was able to swing his arms back and forth as well. Once the initial obstacle of walking was overcome he found that he had complete kinetic control of his massive body, down to the last spine.
                He laughed as he practiced going up and down sand dunes, he found a few scattered bushes and smashed them with his spiny arms, sucking the moisture from their broken bodies with the pores of his arms.
                “Shit yeah Jeff! I am a predator now!” He shouted, “Nothing can stop us now!”
                “I just… I just want to see my family again.” Jeffrey moaned, “I just want them to know I’m still alive.”
                “That’s right Jeff! We’re really alive now! We’re mobile, and there’s nothing in this world that can stop us.”
                As night began to fall, Johnny found a nice spot near an outcropping of rocks and settled down for the night.
                “Tomorrow Jeff,” he said, as he drifted into his nocturnal respiration cycle, “Tomorrow our lives begin!”
                “Please… just kill me.”

                The next day, Johnny took off across the desert, heading in the direction the teenagers took when they returned from the desert, leaving behind a trail of red plastic cups, empty kegs, and used condoms. Soon he came across a road.
                “We’ll need wheels if we’re gonna get anywhere Jeff!” Johnny said, as Jeffrey moaned softly in response. Johnny positioned himself near the side of the road and waited. After about twenty minutes Johnny spotted a car coming down the road. Johnny giggled with glee as it approached. When it was within about a hundred yards Johnny toppled himself into the road. The car jerked to a stop to avoid hitting him. After a few minutes of deliberation the couple in the car got out, intent finding a way to remove Johnny from their path.
                “Watch this buddy!” Johnny whispered to Jeffrey.
                As the man bent down, his hands wrapped in a jacket to protect him from Johnny’s spines, Johnny lashed out with an arm, smashing it into the man’s face. The woman screamed as Johnny bashed his spiny arm into the man’s face again and again. The woman tried to drag her companion away, but Johnny pushed off with another arm, rolling heavily over the man and bringing another arm down on the woman’s shoulder. A few more whacks and Johnny pierced some sort of artery, causing blood to spray all over him. Johnny happily sucked the moisture from the blood and then began sucking the man below him dry. Once he was sure the couple was dead, Johnny carefully pushed himself off the man.
                “There we go! We have a car now!” Johnny said as he shoved himself in through the door.
                “You’re a monster.” Jeffrey said, wiping blood from his tiny, furry face.
                “Real mature Jeff.” Johnny said, contorting himself into the car. He reached a pair of arms down to reach the pedals and placed another on the steering wheel. He depressed the accelerator and they were off, the lower part of his body still jutting forth from the side door.
                “Next stop, Germany!” Johnny said as they took off down the road.
                “Every second is agony.” Jeffrey replied.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

According to Plan



                Wendy Wallace, reporter for The Daily Inquisitor, had been taken prisoner.  Commander Terror laughed as his Terror Troops tied her securely to a metal chair, deep within the center of the Terror Fortress.
                “You’ll never get away with this! Gigaman will stop you!” Wendy shouted at the super villain, her blonde curls bobbing as she struggled to escape the ropes confining her.
                “That’s where you’re wrong, Ms. Wallace!” Commander Terror boomed, his voice amplified by the skull mask he wore over his disfigured face. “My Fortress is impregnable to the likes of him!” He gestured with his arms to encompass the fortress around him, sweeping back his black cloak. Everywhere Wendy looked, Terror Troops swarmed, wearing black berets and skull masks and carrying deadly laser rifles. Many sat at consoles, overseeing the operation of the base and its many defenses. Across from Wendy was the main door, made from reinforced concrete. A pair of Terror Troops manned two giant laser cannons aimed directly at the door.
                “Nothing’s impregnable to Gigaman! He can… pregnate… anything!” Wendy said.
                “I don’t think that’s a word.” Commander Terror said, “You’re a journalist, Yes? No wonder the newspaper industry is failing.”
                “The only thing failing today is you!” Wendy retorted.
                “Ok, that one was a little better.” Commander Terror nodded in approval, then quickly struck a menacing pose, “But it is Gigaman who will fail! No one can infiltrate the Terror Fortress! First, he will have to make it across my Terror Moat, filled with my deadly Terrorcudas! Their saliva, infused with Vanadium, his one weakness!”
                “Do you have to put Terror in front of everything you own?”
                “It’s a theme!” Commander Terror said, clenching his fist in rage, “Next, he will have to make it through my Ter… my Horror Labyrinth! A winding maze filled with deadly traps from which no man has ever escaped! There he will have to contend with the Terrortaur! A half man, half goat monstrosity!”
                “I thought it was supposed to be half-bull…”
                “That’s the MINOTAUR. This is the TERRORTAUR. If by some chance he makes it past the labyrinth, he will face a legion of my finest Terror Troops, led by my dreaded lieutenant, Doom Quixote!”
                “Gigaman will defeat him, just like he defeated the rest of your vile henchmen!”
                “Ah! But that’s not even the worst of what I have in store for—“
                “Uh, excuse me sir.” One of the terror troops tapped Commander Terror on the shoulder, “We have a situation.”
                “What is it you fool!” The super villain spat, “You’re interrupting my villainous monologue!”
                “Well, it’s just Gigaman showed up a few minutes ago…”
                “Ah! He’s already here!” He turned back to Wendy, “Now you will witness his demise, as his futile attempt to rescue you fails!”
                “Well, it’s sort of already failed.” The Terror Troop said, staring awkwardly at his polished black boots.
                “What do you mean?”
                “Well, he’s already dead.” The man said nervously, “Terrorcudas got him. I guess infusing their saliva with Vanadium did the trick.”
                “DEAD!” Commander Terror roared, “Impossible! Gigaman has the strength and agility of a billion men! This is clearly some kind of ploy.”
                “Well that’s what we thought too. We sent a couple guys out to investigate and he’s definitely dead. We even stabbed him a couple times with those Vanadium edged knives you gave us. Steve cut his head off to make sure.”
                “Well then, clearly it is an impostor!”
                “We thought of that, and he does look an awful lot like Rick Stone, reporter for The Daily Inquisitor, but his skin was bulletproof and everything.”
                “Gigaman was Rick Stone?” Wendy cried out, tears forming in her eyes.
                “Well, obviously,” Commander Terror said, “The only thing he did to disguise himself was put on a fake mustache. A fake mustache that was the wrong color, might I add.”
                “I can’t believe he’s really gone!” Wendy sobbed.
                “Yeah, me neither.” Commander Terror said, scratching his head in confusion, “So he didn’t even make it to the Terror Labyrinth?”
                “I thought you said it was called the—“
                “I LIED. It’s the fucking Terror Labyrinth.”
                “No sir,” the minion replied, “Made it to the other side of the moat and then just died on the shore from Vanadium poisoning. On a semi-related note, a lot of the Terrorcudas are dead too, but I think that’s mostly genetic defects from the whole, infusing them with Vanadium thing.”
                “After I spent all that money on that stupid Terrortaur!”
                “Yeah that thing’s dead too. I’m surprised it survived as long as it did, with all that mental retardation and the brain tumors… we really need some better geneticists or something around here.”
                “Yeah yeah…” Commander Terror stared at the ground, deep in thought, “Does Doom Quixote know yet?”
                “Yeah, he actually wanted me to tell you that he was taking the rest of the afternoon off, I think he’s taking some of the Terror Troops to Hooters.”
                “Well, I guess that’s okay since apparently we don’t have to fight Gigaman today…”
                “So what do we do now?”
                “I… don’t know. I didn’t actually expect things to go this well. Hell, I already have my escape rocket prepped for launch.”
                “What about me?” Wendy asked, tears still streaming down her face.
                “Uh… good question.” Commander Terror said, looking the spunky reporter up and down.
                “Can I go?”
                “Sure. Why not. I suppose we don’t really need you anymore.” He walked over and undid her bonds, “Sorry about all this.”
                “No no,” Wendy stood up and stretched. She had stopped crying. “Now that I think about it Gigaman was kind of a douche.”
                “Right?” Commander Terror said, walking Wendy toward the door, “That’s what I keep telling everyone!”
                “He was so uptight!” Wendy continued, “He threw a hissy fit whenever I so much as went above the speed limit! And not telling me he was Rick Stone? What the hell?”
                “No relationship can work without trust.” Commander Terror nodded, as the massive concrete door swung open.”
                “I guess I was really just in it for the glamor of dating a superhero.”
                “I don’t blame you.” Terror Commander said, “Say, this is gonna sound crazy, but are you doing anything tomorrow night? You wanna grab a drink?”
                “I don’t see why not,” Wendy said, as the super villain escorted her to an emergency exit, “I mean, I’m really digging the whole power thing you’ve got going on.”
                “I get that a lot.” Commander Terror said, as he opened a small door that led out into the city streets, “I’ll pick you up at eight, in the Terror Maserati.”
                “Sounds good.” Wendy said, “But if it’s okay with you, can we just call it the Maserati?”
THE END

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Ask Dr. Thunder Episode 312

Good Morning Sunshine, it's time for another exciting episode of Ask Dr. Thunder! You may be disappointed that there isn't another video this week, but then again, you may be a serial rapist, and so why should we care about your opinion? You have nonconsensual sex with people. Like on a regular basis. That's pretty fucked up.
You. Maybe.

Anyways, I can't post a video this week because the risk is too great. It seems my bitch of an ex-wife Karen has assembled a whole vicious assortment of my ex-wives to pool their resources, or should I say, my resources, in order to better afford lawyers, private investigators, and private mercenaries to extract the rest of my resources. I like to call them the Spiteful Harridan Society, and they will stop at nothing to receive the unjust court ordered alimony payments they think they deserve. But that's not important right now. If you wanted to learn about whiny, money-grubbing whores you'd watch Sex and the City. Let's get to some emails.

Dear Dr.Thunder,
My wife is due to give birth to our first child any day now and I am extremely nervous about becoming a father. Do you have any advice for me?.

Well Stephen, as you may know, I have contributed genetic material to probably dozens of children over the years, and I have never become a father. It might be more difficult for you since you made the mistake of marrying the mother, but I think with the proper legal counsel, you could get yourself a sweet gig as a fun uncle, or a big brother. If she does insist on you assuming the mantle of fatherhood, just remember the many benefits of babies. For example, a baby is much more effective than a bulletproof vest, as many thugs are terrified by their gigantic heads and tiny. tiny hands.
Plus they can protect vital organs in a fall.

Our next email comes from Becky in Michigan, Becky writes:

Dear Dr.Thunder,
I have grown sick of the traditional dating scene so I decided to try online dating. However, it turns out most dating sites charge an exorbitant amount of money to access even the basic features of the site! I want to find love, but I don't have that kind of cash! Is there another way?

Well Stephen, you're in luck! I have just started up an absolutely free dating service called ThunderDate! We believe that, under the right circumstances, any two people of roughly the same level of attractiveness can fall in love, at least for a little while. As someone who has been married roughly 114 times over the past 20 years, there is no one more familiar with love than me. As it turns out, love is just a chemical reaction in your brain, that can be easily simulated with drugs! Sure, as you get to know each other, you will most likely find that you have nothing in common but by then it will be too late!
Completely conflicting personalities, but don't they look nice together?

The way our system works, is, you send us a picture and you are matched based, on looks, with someone who is about as good looking as you are. Our love commandos then manipulate your lives so that you fall in love with each other. Unless you are an attractive woman, then you receive a free copy of my best selling self-help book, Why You Should Have Sex With Dr. Thunder, and you will learn how all of your life's problems can be solved by allowing me to put my penis in and around your body. Then afterward, you receive a free pamphlet on the benefits of membership in the Spiteful Harridan Society, one of the largest growing organizations in the Pacific Northwest.
Our last email comes from Little Johnny in Kennecticut. Johnny writes:

Dear Dr. Thunder.
There is this group of mean kids that keep picking on me at school. I've tried telling an adult but whenever I do, the kids just beat me up even worse afterward. Is there nothing I can do?

Well Stephen, have you tried simply talking to these "bullies", maybe inviting them out to coffee, and then killing them? It may sound extreme but if you show up to school with a necklace made with the fingerbones of those who dared to defy you, it will warn off any other bullies who may be tempted to step in and fill the void. It's important that you kill them in such a way that can't actually be tied to you in a legal way, but sends a clear message about who is responsible to those it concerns. Might I suggest a "gas leak" explosion, that by sheer coincidence burns your initials into the wall. I suggest using a middleman that can't be traced back to you, like a delightful talking squirrel. No one ever suspects delightful woodland creatures in explosion based crimes against adolescents.it
Squirrels are nature's demolition experts.
 So now that I got to use the funny picture of a squirrel I found, it's time for me to go. Remember to keep sending in those emails, and I will keep pretending to read them. Dr. Thunder out!