Dechipher
12-22-2002, 02:55 AM
Well, the other day, my teahcer gave me a sentance (which is hte ifrst one) and told me to do some creative writing, so I did, and here it is. BTW, I got a 0 out of 50 because it was inappropriate.
It is 13 days before Christmas and I have just been hired as an elf at the North Pole. I was hired for the important position as "Official Toilet Paper Stocker," Or Stockee. I can't remember which. Anyway, I was supposed to arrive at the North Pole Airport greeted by fellow elves, but when I got there, I found that the only people to greet me were a midget gothic girl with a pink and yello mohawk, a blue, 4-eyed donkey with lisp and and underbite, a radioactive monkey with 3 and 1/2 buttocks , and a psychotic turtle with Buddy Hollly glasses, a rainbow tutu, and a dog collar. Needless to say, I was shocked. But not as shocked as when I opened my trunk and found that all my items had been mysteriously replaced with Rocky Horror Picture Show merchandise. So there I was, a recently hired elf, with Rocky Horror Picture Show clothes, in the company of a bunch of circus freaks, heading to the North Pole to work with Santa, all the while wondering what impression I was going to make. That was almost as interesting as the time I sticky glued those staples to my dogs rear-end. Ah good times.
So anyway, right when I get into the workshop, and start moving in, Santa busts down the door, bullets on his chest, a machete in one hand, a (it looked like) peanut butter and oyster genitalia sandwich in the other. He started screaming stuff like "Either we go down on them, or they'll go down on us. Either way, we'll both wind up with a silly grin on our face," and "Remember, men, they may have our balls, but they'll never have our bats!!!" Well, this scared us elves, so we all got a weapon, (I myself got a frying pan,) and started "restraining" him. It wasn't until we'd shocked him with out last cattle prod, and covered him with our last whalers net, that we all felt safe. So we called the police, and they took him to an interrogation room, where we found out that Santa went nuts and tried to kill everyone because he'd "never been the favorite child." Yeah, well I've heard THAT one plenty of times. Man, people like that I just want to tell them to cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it, ya know? Anyway, since he didn't actually kill anyone, they let him go, considering he was Santa and all, but Christmas day, when hundreds of kids woke up with demented presents, (like this one kid, Charley, had asked for army figures; on Christmas, he got 10 pounds of napalm in his lap, with a match, and this other kid, Lucy, wanted an Easy Bake oven or something, and woke up to find that her house was an oven, and the timer was set for 30 seconds,) the National Guard was called in to get rid of Santa. So they stormed the North Pole, and took over Santa's workshop, and found tons of illegal bellybutton cleaners under the shop. Turns out, Santa was running a little side buisiness, to pay for debts he owed in Las Vegas, to a stripper named "Missus Delicious."
So they took him away, locked him up for good, and he writes often, about prison life, about how his roommate, Mr. Lector, is pretty normal, but sometimes acts weird, and Santa wakes up with certain parts bleeding, but other than that, prison life's great, wish you were here you sexy midget, etc. You know, the usual. Us elves were all fired, and I got a job as a midget in an adult fulm, and the reindeer were all "dispatched" when all 9 were found simoultaneously in bed with Mrs. Clause. Anyway, My life's great, and I got a great house, next to Wal-Mart, third dumpster from the left.
It is 13 days before Christmas and I have just been hired as an elf at the North Pole. I was hired for the important position as "Official Toilet Paper Stocker," Or Stockee. I can't remember which. Anyway, I was supposed to arrive at the North Pole Airport greeted by fellow elves, but when I got there, I found that the only people to greet me were a midget gothic girl with a pink and yello mohawk, a blue, 4-eyed donkey with lisp and and underbite, a radioactive monkey with 3 and 1/2 buttocks , and a psychotic turtle with Buddy Hollly glasses, a rainbow tutu, and a dog collar. Needless to say, I was shocked. But not as shocked as when I opened my trunk and found that all my items had been mysteriously replaced with Rocky Horror Picture Show merchandise. So there I was, a recently hired elf, with Rocky Horror Picture Show clothes, in the company of a bunch of circus freaks, heading to the North Pole to work with Santa, all the while wondering what impression I was going to make. That was almost as interesting as the time I sticky glued those staples to my dogs rear-end. Ah good times.
So anyway, right when I get into the workshop, and start moving in, Santa busts down the door, bullets on his chest, a machete in one hand, a (it looked like) peanut butter and oyster genitalia sandwich in the other. He started screaming stuff like "Either we go down on them, or they'll go down on us. Either way, we'll both wind up with a silly grin on our face," and "Remember, men, they may have our balls, but they'll never have our bats!!!" Well, this scared us elves, so we all got a weapon, (I myself got a frying pan,) and started "restraining" him. It wasn't until we'd shocked him with out last cattle prod, and covered him with our last whalers net, that we all felt safe. So we called the police, and they took him to an interrogation room, where we found out that Santa went nuts and tried to kill everyone because he'd "never been the favorite child." Yeah, well I've heard THAT one plenty of times. Man, people like that I just want to tell them to cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it, ya know? Anyway, since he didn't actually kill anyone, they let him go, considering he was Santa and all, but Christmas day, when hundreds of kids woke up with demented presents, (like this one kid, Charley, had asked for army figures; on Christmas, he got 10 pounds of napalm in his lap, with a match, and this other kid, Lucy, wanted an Easy Bake oven or something, and woke up to find that her house was an oven, and the timer was set for 30 seconds,) the National Guard was called in to get rid of Santa. So they stormed the North Pole, and took over Santa's workshop, and found tons of illegal bellybutton cleaners under the shop. Turns out, Santa was running a little side buisiness, to pay for debts he owed in Las Vegas, to a stripper named "Missus Delicious."
So they took him away, locked him up for good, and he writes often, about prison life, about how his roommate, Mr. Lector, is pretty normal, but sometimes acts weird, and Santa wakes up with certain parts bleeding, but other than that, prison life's great, wish you were here you sexy midget, etc. You know, the usual. Us elves were all fired, and I got a job as a midget in an adult fulm, and the reindeer were all "dispatched" when all 9 were found simoultaneously in bed with Mrs. Clause. Anyway, My life's great, and I got a great house, next to Wal-Mart, third dumpster from the left.