Edgar the South Raleigh Slugger stepped up to the plate. The Raleigh River Goats were down 2 – 4 against the Fuquay Lawn Mowers, and hope was slipping away. The bases were loaded and Edgar was the worst slugger since Michael Jordan. Jaundis the Pitcher who worked mornings at the Fuquay Walmart signaled to his catcher Gordon von Bojangles that he was going to throw a left handed warble. The ball warbled towards Edgar and CRACK went the bat, sending the the ball soaring. 'The Goat Bed', the Raleigh River Goats fan section, went bonkers- all the analysts knew this one would fly out of the park. It whistled higher and higher, but something happened no one foresaw....
“The ball is flying higher and higher and, wait a second people, oh my GOODNESS... In an unbelievable turn of events, the referee has caught the ball... and that will do it! The ref has caught the ball and the game is OVER folks!” screamed ESPN analyst Mark Hamill. It was true- while the other umps were curious as to why there was even a ref on their field, the ref had indeed caught the ball- the game was over. The crowd was stunned, but they had no choice but to file out of the stadium. Who won the game that day? Who knows! It's actually impossible to know. The Raleigh River Goats hung up their caps that evening and never again played a game of baseball as long as they lived.
“So many bones in a curving stack” said Phamus (pronounced Famous), filtering out another femur from the mayonnaise. “Stacking mayonnaise isn’t like playing Jenga- you have to put your head to the ground, lick your lips and start slurping” said Pledgums, diving face first into another mayonnaise mound. He pooched his like a young boy who’s forced to kiss his great auntie, and inhales a greasy slurp. “I don’t care if it’s boring, it’s just pointless. At least when I play Jenga with my friends we’re making a difference” said Phamus, scooping another knee cap out of a nearby mayonnaise patch. She had been slurping this particular patch for nearly seven months. Her toenails were long and infected, she smelled like double cheeseburgers, and her mayonnaise pimples had become pits of despair. She was a miserable wreck, and she knew it. On Wednesdays when she was particularly bored she would roll around and make mayonnaise angels, just to punish herself.
Thankfully today was Thursday, but Pledgums could see the fading outline of yesterday’s mayo angel plaguing the stack. “You speak of making a difference in this world, of having a sense of significance. You’re seeking those warm fuzzies that can only come when you cure cancer or defeat a Democrat” droned Pledgums. Phamus had not the slightest clue where he was going with his rant, but she listened on: “Let me tell you a story my pappy told me when I was just a boy of 2. The tradition of stacking mayonnaise dates back all the way to your greatest great grand uncle Pheusbahl. Now, old cranky Pheusbahl didn’t know a whole lot, but during his travels across the Dakota plains he treated himself to more than his fair share of sammiches. You remember great grandy uncle Pheusbahl’s sammiches dontcha Phamy?” said Pledgums, a crack lingering in his voice, eyes misty and moisty.
Phamus remembered them all right- they tasted like wet wipes topped with an inch of mayonnaise and weird cheese. One of Pheusbahl’s favorite activities was to finish his sammich while watching Peter Pan and then kiss Phamus on the forehead with his greasy mayo lips. “My name is Phamus not Phamy dad, cuz one day I’m gunna make something of myself, just like Pheusbahl” exasperated Phamus. “Your doggone right he made something of himself “said Pledgums, continuing his endless story. “He knew that sammiches had ketchups and other various teriyakis to spice them up, but he wanted more. He had a vision of a magical sammich cream that would sweep the world. He wandered far and wide, making his way deep into middle Florida, home of everything awful. Despairing of all hope he screamed out to the midnight gargoyles, “WHERE DO I FIND MY MAGICAL SAMMICH CREAM?!”
"A nearby gargoyle named Kyle heeded the call and said “Right this way master- your cream awaits.” Pheuesbahl was hesitant but hyped. He followed closely behind the grisly ghoulish gargoyle through a small tunnel beneath Mickey Mouse Marsh. He followed for what seemed like minutes until the tunnel opened into a vast cavern as far as the eye can see, full of bones. It was the legendary Disneyworld Skullyard, the magical cavern where all Disney creatures go to pass away after they’ve served their faithful time with Walt. He began walking into the cavern and stepped onto a bone. The hip bone snapped, and out oozed a thick white cream. “Kyle, what is the meaning of this?” Pheuesbahl blurted to the gargoyle, but he was already gone with the wind. Knowing his time had come, Pheuesbahl grabbed a moldy sammich from his back pocket, slurped up two cheekfulls of cream, and sputtered it onto his which and took a bite. “DELECTABLE! Great grapes, I’ve really done it! I will call it mayonnaise, and the world will know!” screamed your greatest grand uncle. In hindsight, it only made sense that the greatest and most magical cream known to mankind would burst forth from the bones of the most magical Disneys. Pheuesbahl began slurping and creating curving mayonnaise stacks that very day and carried each greasy stack to the surface, where Walt Disney himself would take each stack and distribute to the world. So you see, Phamus- without us, there would be no mayonnaise” Pledgums finally finished, taking in another proud mayo slurp from Bambi’s ribcage.
Phamus hated the story more and more every time she heard it (this was the second time today, which seriously hampered stack production). The biggest reason she hated it was because while she and Pledgums danced around in the sludge busting their buttums, Walt Disney was out selling all of our mayonnaise. Walt got all the credit and we only get 2% of the profit, which is enough for a cheese sammich here and there. But something happened to Phamus this time she heard the story- as she listened and thought about her own life and journey thus far, she FOUND herself. “The blood of Pheuesbahl runs in MY veins too!” she thought to herself.
A dangerous thought began creeping in. She finally built up her courage and screamed “I’M DONE being your mayonnaise slave! I’m gunna go explore the world and discover a new way of bringing mayonnaise to the world!” cried Phamus hysterically, readying herself to run. “You can’t escape. I won’t let you, and neither will they” said Pledgums, hitting some button on his chest. Within seconds Dumbo, Mushu, and the entire cast of The Jungle Book starting jumping on top of each other, blocking the tunnel entrance. Phamus frantically looked around for another way out as Pledgums approached her with a Samurai sword. Her eyes found the center of the cavern- a bubbling pool of Chunky mayonnaise. Without thinking twice, she sprinted to the pool and swan dove in. Pledgums kept chase and grabbed at her foot as she dove. Hope was quickly slipping as she felt herself being dragged to the surface. As a last ditch effort, Phamus tapped into the only skill she’s ever known- slurping. She slurped and slurped harder than she ever had. She gave one final slurp and jerked her leg hard. The force of the slurp and the greasiness of the mayonnaise forced him to let go. She was free to fly, free to slurp.
Down she slurped into deeper darkness, until she finally saw some light. She crashed through the threshold and fell to the ground hard, bruising her biscuits. Phamus took a deep breath and took in her surroundings; very colorful and bright. She saw a few bunnies hopping nearby, children laughing, Aladdin choking. This was Disneyworld, she realized. Every day of her life she worked her nubs off to bankroll this monstrosity. “Excuse me, where can I find Walt Disney?” Phamus asked a nearby white lady. The enormous woman took a bite of her Queen Elsa corndog and answered with a mouthful of mustard, “Walt Disney? He’s dead as dew honey boo!” she said as she devoured the ice queen and blubbered away. Dead??? What could this mean!!!? What was happening to all of our mayonnaise??? Her head was swimming, but no sooner had her world been turned upside down when she walked around the corner and saw Disneyworld’s newest attraction- ‘Mayonnaise Mountain’. It’s just like ‘Splash Mountain’ except the boat does a 60 foot drop into a lake of mayonnaise and it splashes all over the little babies and their respective dads. People ate it up. There was a bridge on the edge of the lake where people could stand and get creamed by the mayonnaise, and people would hold up their hot dogs and hoagies trying to glean a glob.
Of all the thought’s racing through Phamus head, her primary thought was that since the death of Disney, the rest of the world has been living their lives without the blessed Cream. Phamus realized that this was her purpose- she would rediscover mayonnaise somewhere else. With newfound resolve, she stole a golf cart and booked it out of Disneyworld like a banshee. She didn’t even know where to start. How else was a person supposed to make mayonnaise without stumbling upon a gargoyle in a magical Disney skullyard? She explored many different places- porta potties, attics, arcades, Belk, GameStop, gym class, and she even explored the basement of The Disney Store at 'SuckWith Mall' for good measure. She drove her golf cart along highway 2,000 until it ran out of gas.
It stopped next to a place called Kroger. Might as well try, she thought. It was very late at night with no human in sight and no way inside, but being an expert slurper Phamus easily made it inside the premises. As she walked inside Kroger, she knew she had found something magical that no human had ever discovered before. She found all manner of porks and chips, steaks and apples. She wandered the aisles in amazement at this undiscovered treasure trove- her very own magical cavern. Walking down one aisle her eye caught something strangely familiar, and her heart stopped a beat. Right in front of her pimply face were dozens and dozens of jars of white cream- one said “Miracle Whip”, another said “Kraft Mayo” and another said “Duke’s Mayonnaise.” Phamus had done it- she discovered a new way of bringing mayonnaise to the world! She freaked and flipped, eager to reintroduce mayonnaise to the world. She grabbed as many mayo jars as she could and ran out the mystical Kroger cave, sprinting into the middle of the street. Her lungs burned, her spleen shivered- all she wanted to do was tell the world. She ran a few yellow lines worth until a car zoomed by and was forced to stop at the sight of the champion. “What in the name of Sam Heck are you doing little girl?” gurgled the smelly man. “I need to tell the world that mayonnaise is back- it’s right here in Kroger! Disneyworld can’t keep it from you forever!!! Tell me, how might a lassie such as I go about telling the world?” asked Phamus. The man looked so scared. “Wull… I suppose I could bring you down to the TV station, you could tell the world there” said Sam Heck.
Samuel Heck junior drove Phamus down to the TV station. Phamus busted through the doors and demanded to speak to the world. Phorrenzix, an attractive redhead black asian native american woman stopped Phamus in her tracks. “You can’t just get on TV whenever you want to” said Phorrenzix sharply. “YES I CAN! WE’RE GUNNA BE ON TV, aren’t we Sammy?? WE’RE GUNNA BE ON TV!!! And if you don’t put us on, we’ll blow up Disneyworld and no one gets any mayonnaise!” shrieked Phamus, chucking a jar of Light Miracle whip at the camera boy nearby. Phorenzix had no choice- soon the headline was playing across all CNN’s- ‘Local girl rediscovers mayonnaise’. Phamus had made a difference. While the world was very happy for Phamus, they were mostly just very confused. After the segment was shot the TV station crew, still very perplexed as to why she was so excited about getting some mayonnaise from Kroger, told Phamus they would reward her for helping the good sammiches of the world by giving her a job at Kroger as the Mayonnaise Priestess. Now the world knows about mayonnaise. Have you ever had it? It's great. The next time you go to Kroger, stop in the mayonnaise aisle and you may get a peak at the high Mayonnaise Priestess Phamus. THE ENDS!
The true story of how Ronald Reagan became president and how the bald eagle became America's national floater has been a story locked away in the deepest dusters of the Library of Congress, and was discovered by accident by daddy. While it is being meticulously dusted before being presented to the Senate for christening, I got an exclusive look by pretending to be the representative duster from Dakota.
The story goes something like this- on a misty fall morning, the great bald eagle Travis was soaring over lake freedom on his way to feed his eagle babies some nuts and berries he hunted. "We want don't want stupid berries, we want mozzarella sticks" said Rhonda the eagle. "You ungrateful wench!" sobbed Travis to his eagle babies. He honestly hated every one of his children, but he desired their approval more than he desired even his daily Pepsi, so he flew down 299 miles to the local Applebee's in search of mozzarella sticks.
Today happened to be Karaoke Tuesday at Applebee's, and next up on the docket was a young congressman named Ronald Reagan. He stepped up to the microphone and sang 'My Country Tis of Thee' so piercingly profound and full of American gusto that even Grover Cleveland gave a salute in his grave. Travis the eagle was dumbfounded, and the crowd went wild. They demanded an encore, and by now the majority of our great nation had crammed into Applebee's to partake of the surprising patriotic blessing. Ronald reluctantly graced his hungry crowd with a tasteful rendition of 'You're a Grand Ol' Flag', and by the time he sang the classic line 'you're a flag', the crowd had unanimously decided to make Ronald Reagan the president of the United States. Travis watched in wonder for the next four hours as Ronald Reagan orchestrated thousands of brilliant legislations, fixed the economy, and tore down the Berlin Wall with his bare hands (this will be a news buster for CNN for sure- the fact that Reagan's entire presidency only lasted for four hours and was spent entirely at Applebee's.)
Order of Mozzarella sticks for Travis!" cried the cheese boy, Greggums. Just as Travis was paying for his food, President Reagan walked up to him and said "well golly be, if it isn't an bald eagle! Would you like some biscuits, laddy?" spaketh the president. "That's alright, I just ordered some cheesy delights for my children, but they don't deserve them- I hunted and gathered just like they teach you in social studies, and they still call their daddy a dork. They need to be taught a lesson." complained Travis. "Well if anyone can teach these ingrates a little American respect it's me, bring me to them promptly and swiftly in order that I may smack the hooey out of thum!" said the president. Without a second thought Ronald leaped upon Travis' back and out from Applebee’s they went. At this moment the people below were graced with one histories most patriotic pamperings since Abraham Lincoln ate his post Gettysburg victory Big Mac- they were pampered with the sight of the President on the bald Eagles back soaring into the sunset, set to the tape recorded soundtrack of Lee Greenwood singing “I’m Proud to be an American."
Once the pair reached the nest, the kids were yelping so horribly even Ronald had to hold back a few ripe grizzlers. "WHERE'S OUR MOZZARELLA STICKS YOU SORRY SACK!" one of the babies, Rhotunda, squelched, miserably. "YEAH DAD YOU SUCK!" belched Rhumatoid, the boy in the front left center middle. “Oh no, the cheese sticks!” Travis thought quietly out loud as he delved into one of his famous Tizzie's once he realized he had forgotten to grab the cheese. He didn't know what to do- to not feed his babies could mean mutiny. Out of panic and dread, Travis grabbed Ronald with his sweaty claws and threw him onto his pathetic kin. "This is the presidunt of the unitud states- eat him!" shouted Travis in desperation. Without a second thought the baby eaglettes began to devour our great potentate. "So ends my tenure!" giggled the president as he gulped his last. Travis realized that what he had done was truly worthy of 25 to life, but he didn’t care- because the baby eagles never spoke an ill word to Travis again. This was because Ronald’s remains caused the baby eagles hearts and bellies to be overwhelmed with patriotism and pride for our great nation and for the common man. From that day forward every American knew instinctively that the bald eagle was America’s national floater and supreme tweetums.
So why, you may ask, was this story locked up, and a very good Reagan impersonator lived out the rest of his years until he died a death of natural causes? Probably because Congress didn't have anything better to do that day. But now you know- next time you happen upon an Applebee's, keep your eyes open for Travis the American Eagle- he'll be at the bar, eating mozzarella sticks, humming yankee doodle. And thanks be to daddy for discovering this national treasure, one that will be shared unto all the world for all generations to come on all of the myspaces and xangas of the world, or until at least next Tuesday.
This is a skit written by JD Loftis and Brett Alan Colyer- it chronicles the journey of a man who must make his peace with THE most important question of our generation...Bagel Claim Worker: Hello sir, how may I serve you? Dr. Panargles: Ummm yes sir, I’ve seemed to have lost my bagel. Bagel Claim Worker: Well sir this is bagel claim so you’re in good hands. Tell me, what flight did you majestically soar through the air on? Dr. Panargles: Cinnamon Crunch flight 325 on a direct route to Honey Walnut Cream Cheese. Bagel Claim Worker: Okie Donkey! Let me check our Cinnamon Crunch flight directory. Could you just wait one French baguette while I pull this up for you? Dr. Panargles: Well…it is my bagel sir, so of course I can wait! It’s very near and dear to my bottom. Bagel Claim Worker: Spoken like a true bagel boy! Bear with me one morsel… whulp, here it is sir! You can find your lost bagel on toaster number five near sector Sesame Seed. Can I help you with any of your other bagel needs today? Dr. Panargles: Well actually, yes... the dreadful prospect of losing my beloved bagel has gotten me thinking about you, my dear soul- I have to ask you a very important question... and I hope I don't come across as presumptuous, what with you being a bagel claim worker and all, but I feel as if I have no other choice, good man- have you ever had a bagel??? Bagel Claim Worker: Why, by golly Joe Jove, now that you mention it sir, I have never had a bagel of my own. I am always assisting others with their bagel needs, but I have never allowed myself the joy of having a bagel. If you wouldn’t mind sir… what is it like? Dr. Panargles: Beg your pardon? Bagel Claim Worker: You know, to have a bagel. What is it like? Can you remember your first bagel? Dr. Panargles: Great mother of Jeff! I was just a boy of seven when I had my first bagel. A lovely dame called Jeff flew me to her bagel basket and presented it to me. I took a bite and was addicted for life. Be warned my miniscule bunyon, once you take a bite of your first bagel you will be instantaneously transported into a sea of pancakes. One of the pancakes named Greggor will say to you “eat me or else” and then every other pancake will jump into your mouth and sing of the heavenly delights of their great ancestor David, the original bagel who begat all bountiful baked goodies, including the high immigrants of old, the doughy Davids. One could compare it to being speared in the heart by one thousand sweet buttery dough arrows, with each bite piercing another artery until you pass away into a brisk sour dough bliss. Once you bite a bagel, you will most certainly die. Bagel Claim Worker: Goodness grapes! My meemaw had told me the legends of the Doughy Davids, but then daddy would always interrupt her and spattle “Our family doesn’t believe in bagels- we only believe in Cabbage!" He was a grouch, a stump, a drunk, and a murderer. Sir, please tell me. How might I acquire one of these miraculous fluffers that is a bagel? Dr. Panargles: There's a magical place on every street corner, mind you...it is called “Paienerrya”. Bagel Claim Worker: Paienerrya! So wait, you mean to exclaim that it really does exist? Dr. Panargles: It does, my dear chapper, it does. However, you must understand that chomping bagels mustn’t be taken lightly. You might want to consider taking a few days to meditate and empty your pours of all lesser biddles such as that Taco Bell you’ve got there, you nasty glump greaser. Bagel Claim Worker: But Taco Bell is all I have! How could I possibly empty my pours of all lesser frumps to be left with nothing, only to hope against hope that I might one day get the slightest chance of slicing my own bagel in half, placing it in the toaster oh so lightly and brightly, and for it to burst forth into my life? It is a great cost sir, I’m not sure if my old brittles are up for the risk. Dr. Panargles: Silence! If you but quiet your miserable soul, my scumbag, you will be able to approach mother bread, who graces all with cinnamon crumbles and asiago cheese freely and abundantly. Bagel Claim Worker: But, my holy bagel, I have never heard of such a wonderful grace that has been given to me! After I quiet my awful soul, what must I do? Dr. Panargles: You must visit “Jeremy the Stink”, give him three gordles, perform 12 hail bagels, and quickly say "PISH POSH AND AWAY WITH YOU STANKY ONE!" Don't worry, he'll know what to do. Soon your unworthy grubby paws will be grasping the morning jewel, and at that point the only thing left to do is to smother it with the blessed paste. Bagel Claim Worker: Sir, everything that you have said makes much sense. But please, be tender with me, for I am but a maggot stuck to the bottom of Bobby’s boot and I would hate to upset the blessed smelly one, but- what is the blessed paste? Dr. Panargles: The paste is what the lungs are to the heart. A bagel is nothing without its blessed paste. It is the flubbering floundering waterfall of sugarcane goodness that is spread about the bagel like the wheat of the fields. Produced from the mighty cows of Wisconsin, this parroting paste is produced from the cackling cheese curds of the dumb. It comes in many gorts and gordles; honey walnut, plain jane, and strawdairy. Bagel Claim Worker: Oh sir, this paste! It's as if I can feel it bubbling up inside my bogles! I will quit tomorrow and begin my life anew as I climb to the apex of mount sourdough- no more scowering about the toasters for others' lost bagels amongst the mess that is the bagel claim! NO MORE! Dr. Panargles: Now, let us sing the blessed bagel hymn together: Mother Bread, who art at Paienerrya, blessed be your bagels, For there’s nothing like a bagel in the morning They’re fluffity, they’re puffity, one two three four five I’d like my bagel toasted, but not too darkly toasted, There’s nothing like a bagel in the morrrning! Dr. Panargles: Amen, hallelujah, you are DISMISSED!
It is the year 3016 and the Democrats have finally won an election. Everyone is rather merry, so they decide to go on a hunt to find Tupac's bones, but in reality they stumble upon Abe Lincoln riding Don Quixote's mule, so they all dress western and go for a few smokes.
Jailbird runaways and their starving dog Offenbach and their friend Brandenburg, and their pet horse Bach sit on the corner on the regular and flirt with the beautiful county princess Abby Butterbuns, but what they don't know is that Abby is an alien. She's seeking to rob them of their pants because she liked them a lot and their horse in order to turn it into glue, which is the native food of her home planet Grimmy. Fortunately, Bach the horse has gas and kills them all, expect for the dog Offenbach, who begins a meat company.
A couple of gangsters known only as "The Zealous Turnips" are enjoying the high life as a few onlookers are window shopping, and they realize that the gangsters have stolen their boat. Their muscles are big and their bandanas are bright, one is Eminem and the other is Vanilla Ice. They plan on sailing to Chicago to pick up some hot dogs, one deep dish pizza to go, and the world famous FOUR ringed chicago loose leafed graduate-ruled paper. They are now fugitives, and the angry window shoppers follow them all the way to Fort Knox where they all unite and rob it with the help of the President's cabinet using only pumpkins and filibusters. Reggie Bush applauds them while holding his Heisman in his left arm.
In the world famous "Opera of Souls", evil womanizers climb through the roof and try to steal the poor people's umbrellas and happiness. Fortunately, Hezekiah Jim returned, this time as a Jewish Poolboy, and he is plotting to knock the womanizers off the trapeze with a grenade hidden inside a cheeseburger dangling from the rafters to save the day. To Hezekiah's everlasting suprise, Matt Damon was also in the rafters, trying desperately to make a comeback as a rooftop bellower. "I do believe your shirt is missing" said Matt Damon in his Bourne voice. This made Hezekiah squeemish because he really liked Ocean's Twelve, so he took a bite of his burger and squelched "IMA POOL BOY!" This set off the grenade that was located inside the greasy grizzle, blowing all surrounding souls, womanizers and baristas alike, to bitty bits.
The magical jamaican horseman Hezekiah Jim comes to visit the British inhabitants in South Africa who are having a tea party. "Ya mon, mi neim is Hezekiah, and I've come to ruin everyting" said Jimmy Jim Jim to the Brits. Hezekiah very quickly (and quietly) spanks his horse Juniper on the bummer, jacks all cadillacs, and shoots the owner with a 45 magnum. He also pours their tea into their cummerbunds and shanks the bus boy. The constable of the party catches word of Hezekiah's wiles and sends the bobbies down to cut off Jim's dreads, but fortunately Hezekiah's horse Juniper has the magic to fly away to the magical "Garden of Goodness and Hot Women" and anyone's allowed in unless someone has stolen your tea.
A flock of angry Indians burned the town of Wegener's to the ground because all the whites stole the Indian's buffaloes and opened up a grand boutique in Wegener's called "Buffalo Wild Thangs." The only whites to escape were a lonely couple named Ralph and Boo Clinkenbeard and their troubled cat Brett. They tried to run by land, but the Indians were jealous of Brett the cat, so they began to chase them. The Clinkenbeards quickly stole a boat and sailed off to the famous foreign candy island of "Happiness and No Sadness Except When the Indians Come to Chase You." They got lost, dived over a waterfall, and passed away. Unfortunately the Indians never got their buffalo revenge because the river delivered the Clinkenbeards promptly to Davie Jones boys locker room.
The day the most annoying woman on the earth was dubbed Queen of the World, everyone knew that our sad little waste of time we called life was over. Her name was Gerty and she sucked. After her inauguration speech to the world, no one could stand to hear her awful screechy annoying fat voice. "I'M INTELLIGENT" shrieked Gerty, terribly. It was so bad in fact that people began shooting their TV's and each other just to keep Gerty from talking. Eventually enough TV's were shot that Gerty thought she was being shot, so she had a heart attack and died.
Aquafidde couldn't play the fiddle very well because you can't play fiddle in aqueous water. This was until the great leviathon Glen came and once again killed the world. The only real hope people had was Aquafiddle, but he couldn't do anything because he was a pathetic sack. But they did use aquafiddle as bait for Glen the leviathon to come and eat him and get caught by the giant net. Aquafiddle was eaten by Glen.
Once upon a time there lived a lad named Larz. He didn’t know what to do so he took it upon himself to steal every last box of Special K from his local grocer. The authorities didn’t really like that very much so they picked him up, brought him to Roondabooboo cliff and poured him over the edge. Larz did not survive the fall, so he was unfortunately unable to taste the Special K.
"C'mon Billy, let's rise" cried the crier to Billy at intervals. "I don't want anything to do with these shenanagans, I'm just a baker- a baker of breads and five bucks to spare, let me go back!" wailed Billy. "Naww! We got gortles to grundle and ferns to fry, but we gotta rise." shrilled Shrilly the shriller. "I CAN'T I WOULDN'T I SHAN'T!" bellowed Billy as he passed out into oblivion. He dreamed he was floating on a cloud of flour over a field of baguettes and bagels. He rode a baker's tray through gardens and up into the market, and he nearly reached his blessed Petunia when his dream was cut short- "C'mon Billy, let's rise."
The Klumsy Kid wasn’t a problem for most people until he found a mario brothers growth mushroom and grew to heights of beyond 1,000 feet tall, and began terrorizing the town of Tokyo, Japan. He didn’t mean to hurt anybody, but he was so klumsy he would just trip and fall or sneeze on everybody. To counterattack what the locals believed was an attack, they sent Godzilla to hunt down and kill the clumsy kid, which he did.