Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Big Blogger 2 - Task 5, Plan B

This time around, Big Blogger wants everyone to wear their underwear on the outside of their clothes. No word on the giant drill-bit bras, self-crucifixion, or God-awful film career, but stay tuned for the progressive Madonna-ization of the cyberhousehold.


My mistake, we're only supposed to re-invent ourselves as superheroes, and pick a sidekick from the rest of the cyberhousemates.

In the city, they call me many names... most of them aren't pleasant, but I've never fit the mold of a genteel crimefighter, so I can't blame them for their misconceptions. While many a citizen has chided my methods, none can argue with my results. Crime has been put on notice in Hammistan: knock it the hell off, or you'll face severe consequences. You'll face -

The Disgustipator!

Yes, the Disgustipator! (of the Scranton Disgustipators if you must know) With my supernatural ability to gross anyone right the fuck out, I can sap any criminal's desire to prey on the unsuspecting public. From dead hooker jokes, to graphic descriptions of the birthing process, mine is a fearsome arsenal of nauseating weapons. Sometimes I have to get rough with the more hardened repeat offenders... but I'd rather wake up each morning in a crime-free city, than worry about someone having to clean crook puke off the sidewalk.
As my Egyptian mentor taught me so long ago, "It's better to step in spilled stomach contents than spilled blood."

Fortunately, I don't have to face the dark alleys of the city alone. My sidekick, the Flying Ant, is ever by my side... kicking things, I guess. Or whatever the hell sidekicks are supposed to do. Anyway, since she has the ability (or curse) of summoning hordes of flying ants, she can use them to distract any ne'er do wells that stand in the way of justice. Or Just Us.
I only hope we don't get ambushed by a gang of cabana boys - She'll turn on me like last week's coleslaw.

The Rest
of The Usual Suspects:
The Rachy
Hillbilly Mom
Redneck Diva

Big Blogger 2 posts:
Theyyyyyyyy're Mediocre!
Infectious Grooves
The Shame of the Monkeybars
Roses Have Thorns: The Kleenex Box Ode
Abe Dawg's playing poker
Postcards From the Hedge


Blogger Hillbilly Mom said...

Well now, Mr. Disgustipator...I think my favorite of your nauseating stories was the one about that thing inside your nose that ate its way to the OUTSIDE of your nose, and then that hair came out.

Excuse me...I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. And I'm not even a criminal.

2:41 PM, June 01, 2006  

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