Post by Gurgen Hovhanissian on Oct 17, 2016 0:52:24 GMT -5
There was a lack of wodka in the cupboard. In fact there was a lack of everything in the cupboard, save for a small can with Cyrillic markings on it that probably contained trace amounts of radioactivity, lead paint and communist propaganda and went zooming past its best before date somewhere in the early nineties. Beast closed the doors to the cupboard, waited for a few seconds and then yanked them open again.
Nope, the magic wodka gnomes had not seen fit to restock the cupboard in those few seconds. Still, one had to try, didn’t one?
Almost entirely certain that no emergency back-up stash of wodka lurked in the unfathomable depths of the coat, Gurgen checked never the less, trusting on his lack of a memory to have concealed the fact that he might have potentially left a hip flask in there somewhere among the unpaid electric bills and last week’s sausage dinner.
And, eureka! There was indeed a flask in there. But upon sampling its contents, Gurgen found that it only held the sparsest of vapors. He sucked what little alcoholic content there yet lingered in there, and we’re talking parts per million here.
Hoping against hope, he stood still waiting for the familiar alcohol buzz to quench, however little, the pain he yet felt over the loss of his little furry buddy.
The buzz, alas, failed to emerge from such a minute quantity of the hallowed substance.
To make matters worse, Gurgen realized, Frank was following him around with that infernal and eternal camera of his.
The great NAW dragon was not satiated with just one porno, he had to feed it more … and, thanks to the inconsiderate nature of that damned cupboard, he’d have to do so absolutely shit-faced sober.
Gee, thanks Obama!
Bobnfrank, whom, he totally remembered, was in fact two distinct people, had lain out their plans for this porno. But Gurgen needed to not be around too many people right now. So, the burlesque dancers and the strippers and the pygmy basketball team were all canceled. Beast briefly considered if he should keep the dromedary they had scheduled to be in the porno. But seeing as dromedaries were a good deal too large to fit into what remained of his beard (he had tried), he thought it best to let them too amble back to their pen at the zoo.
Beast dismissed the musing of whether burlesque dancers too sojourned in zoos and got down to business.
He seized upon the briefcase of choice and tossed it upon the sole table that adorned this room.
He went to sit at the table with hands folded over the case. Resting his chin, beard draping down onto the table, on his folded hands, he began to address the camera Frank was diligently pointing at him since he had opened the recalcitrant cupboard.
“Jason Firebird,” he started, his face contorting into an unfamiliar landscape which might have been an attempt at a friendly smile, if one were attempting to befriend the crossbreed of a wolverine with facial cancer and a skunk with a body odor problem, even by skunk standards, “Maybe Beast been bit … harsh for Jason. Everyone always want case. But no Jason! Jason no mention case even once.”
He patted the case a few times.
“No,” he continued, face still unnaturally contorted, “Jason Firebird want Beast!”
He pounded his chest in a fairly reasonable facsimile of Harambe when he wasn’t being all cute and gunned down.
“And, that make Jason stark raving mad freak. Beast even took survey.”
He pulled a stack of papers from his coat and showed them to the camera. The papers bore scribblings that at first glance might have been Armenian script but the letters were more hacked into the paper than actually written. Even a native Armenian would have trouble making sense of these hieroglyphs.
The ‘letters’ were arranged into two distinct columns.
“Beast ask girl … ‘girl want Beast?’ and these be girls who say no.”
He flipped through a couple of similarly slaughtered pages until he reached a page with just two words on it.
“This be girls who say yes. Jason no can read? Beast translate it. First girl be name Karen. Second girl be name … Jason.”
Beast’s mug settled into a genuine smile. He chuckled a bit, a sound reminiscent of a hyena barbershop quartet for hyena’s who survived laryngeal cancer bringing a rendition of Hard Rock, Hallelujah. “Beast maybe beat Jason into pulp and then Beast maybe have party with Karen.”
He waved at the camera, “Hi Karen!”
There proved to be yet one more page.
“Ah, yes, this be names of officers who arrest Beast for asking too many girls.”
Done with the papers, Beast returned his full attention, which still isn’t saying much, to Jason.
“So, Jason be crazy freak. Beast respect that! Us be couple of crazy freaks together. ”
“Hey,” he released his precious case to make a grand welcoming gesture not entirely dissimilar to the Cristo Redentor statue in the bay of Rio de Janeiro, “Maybe Jason and Beast make friends! Beast and Jason make respect for each the other when fighting in ring and when bell ring, Beast and Jason become bros and then Beast and Jason have cookies and wodka and Karen together!”
He waited long enough for the audience to go ‘is he serious’ in their collective heads. Then he threw his head back laughed, though ti sounded more like a lovelorn wolf lamenting the loss of the team he had bet half a deer on.
“Beast make joke, of course. Beast no wanna share Karen! Besides, Beast never been with two girls!”
This required another howl-at-the-moon-in-a-pink-tutu laugh.
“And if … when … when Beast get new supply of wodka, Beast keep it all to self. And Beast would no give Jason cookie if Beast have just eaten one million cookies and was really sick, like almost gonna hurl and Beast still have million cookie … even then, Beast no give cookie to Jason Firebird.”
He folded his arms atop the briefcase again. “No, here be what gonna happen … Jason gonna come to ring, Beast gonna feed Jason beard, then Jason gonna leave ring on stretcher. That be what gonna happen.”
He paused a moment, not really to allow the audience to process his message, but more because he had forgotten what he was going to say next.
Eventually, when the silence was starting to become an issue and Frank was considering shutting down the camera, Beast added, “But Beast thank Jason for no talking ‘bout case. Good boy, Jason, good boy!”
Content that a message had been gotten across and that thus, Franknbob’s eternal thirst for footage had been satiated, for now anyway, Beast leaned back. As his beard slid off the case, he seemed only just now notice it, which, given the steadfastness of his memory was a distinct possibility.
He ran his hands across the case. And, since cases were meant to be opened, he did just that, feeling just the slightest pang that Bottlecap wasn’t here to assist him with this arduous task.
No, the case did not contain Beast’s skid marked nether laundry, this was the actual briefcase of choice.
He extracted the single sheet of paper from within.
“All fighting over simple paper,” Beast idly mused.
The words on the paper were in some freakish alien language known only as ‘the English’ which Beast of course could not read. Hell, he had trouble enough extracting the slightest bit of meaning from even a short string of Armenian characters.
He queried Frank, “Frank know what paper say?”
Frank didn’t need to check the paper; he just nodded.
“Paper say Beast get to fight for belt?” Gurgen checked.
Frank, camera and all, again nodded.
Beast studied the paper and its insane alien words. Such a simple thing, such great power it represented.
He snorted. The paper disappeared into the case again. He closed the lid. His hands rested atop the case.
“Maybe Beast do something with that … soon.”
He glanced at the camera, “But Jason Firebird no worry, Beast no forget about Jason. Before Beast use case of choice briefs, Beast make Jason sample beard. Sour cream and endives, Jason, sour cream and endives.”
Nope, the magic wodka gnomes had not seen fit to restock the cupboard in those few seconds. Still, one had to try, didn’t one?
Almost entirely certain that no emergency back-up stash of wodka lurked in the unfathomable depths of the coat, Gurgen checked never the less, trusting on his lack of a memory to have concealed the fact that he might have potentially left a hip flask in there somewhere among the unpaid electric bills and last week’s sausage dinner.
And, eureka! There was indeed a flask in there. But upon sampling its contents, Gurgen found that it only held the sparsest of vapors. He sucked what little alcoholic content there yet lingered in there, and we’re talking parts per million here.
Hoping against hope, he stood still waiting for the familiar alcohol buzz to quench, however little, the pain he yet felt over the loss of his little furry buddy.
The buzz, alas, failed to emerge from such a minute quantity of the hallowed substance.
To make matters worse, Gurgen realized, Frank was following him around with that infernal and eternal camera of his.
The great NAW dragon was not satiated with just one porno, he had to feed it more … and, thanks to the inconsiderate nature of that damned cupboard, he’d have to do so absolutely shit-faced sober.
Gee, thanks Obama!
Bobnfrank, whom, he totally remembered, was in fact two distinct people, had lain out their plans for this porno. But Gurgen needed to not be around too many people right now. So, the burlesque dancers and the strippers and the pygmy basketball team were all canceled. Beast briefly considered if he should keep the dromedary they had scheduled to be in the porno. But seeing as dromedaries were a good deal too large to fit into what remained of his beard (he had tried), he thought it best to let them too amble back to their pen at the zoo.
Beast dismissed the musing of whether burlesque dancers too sojourned in zoos and got down to business.
He seized upon the briefcase of choice and tossed it upon the sole table that adorned this room.
He went to sit at the table with hands folded over the case. Resting his chin, beard draping down onto the table, on his folded hands, he began to address the camera Frank was diligently pointing at him since he had opened the recalcitrant cupboard.
“Jason Firebird,” he started, his face contorting into an unfamiliar landscape which might have been an attempt at a friendly smile, if one were attempting to befriend the crossbreed of a wolverine with facial cancer and a skunk with a body odor problem, even by skunk standards, “Maybe Beast been bit … harsh for Jason. Everyone always want case. But no Jason! Jason no mention case even once.”
He patted the case a few times.
“No,” he continued, face still unnaturally contorted, “Jason Firebird want Beast!”
He pounded his chest in a fairly reasonable facsimile of Harambe when he wasn’t being all cute and gunned down.
“And, that make Jason stark raving mad freak. Beast even took survey.”
He pulled a stack of papers from his coat and showed them to the camera. The papers bore scribblings that at first glance might have been Armenian script but the letters were more hacked into the paper than actually written. Even a native Armenian would have trouble making sense of these hieroglyphs.
The ‘letters’ were arranged into two distinct columns.
“Beast ask girl … ‘girl want Beast?’ and these be girls who say no.”
He flipped through a couple of similarly slaughtered pages until he reached a page with just two words on it.
“This be girls who say yes. Jason no can read? Beast translate it. First girl be name Karen. Second girl be name … Jason.”
Beast’s mug settled into a genuine smile. He chuckled a bit, a sound reminiscent of a hyena barbershop quartet for hyena’s who survived laryngeal cancer bringing a rendition of Hard Rock, Hallelujah. “Beast maybe beat Jason into pulp and then Beast maybe have party with Karen.”
He waved at the camera, “Hi Karen!”
There proved to be yet one more page.
“Ah, yes, this be names of officers who arrest Beast for asking too many girls.”
Done with the papers, Beast returned his full attention, which still isn’t saying much, to Jason.
“So, Jason be crazy freak. Beast respect that! Us be couple of crazy freaks together. ”
“Hey,” he released his precious case to make a grand welcoming gesture not entirely dissimilar to the Cristo Redentor statue in the bay of Rio de Janeiro, “Maybe Jason and Beast make friends! Beast and Jason make respect for each the other when fighting in ring and when bell ring, Beast and Jason become bros and then Beast and Jason have cookies and wodka and Karen together!”
He waited long enough for the audience to go ‘is he serious’ in their collective heads. Then he threw his head back laughed, though ti sounded more like a lovelorn wolf lamenting the loss of the team he had bet half a deer on.
“Beast make joke, of course. Beast no wanna share Karen! Besides, Beast never been with two girls!”
This required another howl-at-the-moon-in-a-pink-tutu laugh.
“And if … when … when Beast get new supply of wodka, Beast keep it all to self. And Beast would no give Jason cookie if Beast have just eaten one million cookies and was really sick, like almost gonna hurl and Beast still have million cookie … even then, Beast no give cookie to Jason Firebird.”
He folded his arms atop the briefcase again. “No, here be what gonna happen … Jason gonna come to ring, Beast gonna feed Jason beard, then Jason gonna leave ring on stretcher. That be what gonna happen.”
He paused a moment, not really to allow the audience to process his message, but more because he had forgotten what he was going to say next.
Eventually, when the silence was starting to become an issue and Frank was considering shutting down the camera, Beast added, “But Beast thank Jason for no talking ‘bout case. Good boy, Jason, good boy!”
Content that a message had been gotten across and that thus, Franknbob’s eternal thirst for footage had been satiated, for now anyway, Beast leaned back. As his beard slid off the case, he seemed only just now notice it, which, given the steadfastness of his memory was a distinct possibility.
He ran his hands across the case. And, since cases were meant to be opened, he did just that, feeling just the slightest pang that Bottlecap wasn’t here to assist him with this arduous task.
No, the case did not contain Beast’s skid marked nether laundry, this was the actual briefcase of choice.
He extracted the single sheet of paper from within.
“All fighting over simple paper,” Beast idly mused.
The words on the paper were in some freakish alien language known only as ‘the English’ which Beast of course could not read. Hell, he had trouble enough extracting the slightest bit of meaning from even a short string of Armenian characters.
He queried Frank, “Frank know what paper say?”
Frank didn’t need to check the paper; he just nodded.
“Paper say Beast get to fight for belt?” Gurgen checked.
Frank, camera and all, again nodded.
Beast studied the paper and its insane alien words. Such a simple thing, such great power it represented.
He snorted. The paper disappeared into the case again. He closed the lid. His hands rested atop the case.
“Maybe Beast do something with that … soon.”
He glanced at the camera, “But Jason Firebird no worry, Beast no forget about Jason. Before Beast use case of choice briefs, Beast make Jason sample beard. Sour cream and endives, Jason, sour cream and endives.”