Greetings, stupid idiot, and welcome to another edition of...WEBSITE WASTE OF TIME, the latest sensation where we take the view on a journey into the mind of some of the Webmasters of Today!
I’m Evil Scientist/Good Guy Cid, from FF3(tm) (In Japan, FF6(tm)), and your host today! Shucks, I may’ve starred in other emmensely popular Final Fantasty(tm) titles, but being as I’m too lazy to get off my butt and find out, I may never know. Tonight we’ll be interviewing the Webmaster of the wildly unpopular website, Tasty Poodles, and be asking him some thought provoking questions that will make you go “hmm.” Here with me now, ladies and gentlemen, Tasty Poodles Webmaster and All Around Loser, Tie Guy! Nice to meet you, Tie-Guy.
Tie-Guy: When do we eat?
Cid: Ha ha ha! That’s a good one! It’s a pleasure to be interviewing you today, if you don’t mind me saying so.
T-G: I’ll have you know I DO mind you saying so, and if you don’t mind not minding so, the only real reason I’m here today is to get the number of that fine chick in the makeup department, and stuff as many free donuts into my pockets as I can.
Cid: *long silence* Err... whatever you say, Tie Guy. Now... Mind if I ask a few questions?
T-G: I don’t care. I just want her number.
Cid: You can get her number, after the show, ok? Just calm down.
T-G: NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER! NUMBER!
Cid: ALL RIGHT ALREADY! ENOUGH!
The Cute Chick from Makeup: Here ya go, cutie. ; ) *hands Tie Guy a small slip of paper*
T-G: Score!
Cid: Can, uh... can we get on with this?
T-G: Hey, don’t look at me. It’s your show.
Cid: Ok. Now then, Tie Guy, what do you consider to be your greatest source of inspiration for the Tasty Poodles website?
T-G: Inspiration? Shucks, 2 am is the only ‘inspiration’ I need to crank out that mind numbing drivel. But, Inspiration? Hmm... slap me with a salmon and tell me I stink! I think my main source of Inspiration would have to be... Cheese logs.
Cid: Cheese logs?
T-G: Yes, Cheese logs. There’s... just something about a giant cylinder of cheese that makes me want to get up and bang on a keyboard like a crazed monkey.
Cid: ...Why are you doing this to me?
T-G: Doing what? All I'm doing is answering your freaking questions! C'mon, you wimp! Do yer job!
Cid: Oook, smart guy... How'd you get the name for your website? I mean, there aren't any poodles ANYWHERE on it, and... how do you know if poodles are tasty?
T-G: Simple, Mrs. Dimple. My old neighbor had a poodle, right? It had a typical Poodle name: Fifi. Boy oh boy, was Fifi a Psycho Poodle. She'd bark, bark, and bark some more! Wow, she was crazy. Anyhoo, one day I finally got so fed up with that incessant yapping, I picked Fifi up, and made some soup.
Cid: Dear God! You killed Fifi, and used her parts in your Soup of Death?
T-G: What? No... I made Chicken Noodle Soup. Campbells. Good to the last drop, y'know.
Cid: Ugh. Go ahead.
T-G: Yeah, so I made the chicken noodle soup, right? Then I realized that Poodle... rhymes with Noodle! I laughed uproariously at this, causing Fifi to become unnerved. That may be why she bit my arm.
Cid: Interesting.. *yawns*
T-G: Next question? Or did your lame writers not have any good questions for you to offer me?
Cid: Hey, my wife is one of the writers for this junk...
T-G: Whatever. Next Question?
Cid: ...Why don't you ever make any sense on your webpages? I mean, you weren't really a big black kid who enjoyed eating chocolate pudding by the carton... right?
T-G: Cid, I have only one thing to say to that. Dooby doo bop, dooby doo bop, bop bop bah! Dooby dooby dooby, dododododo! Dun dalun, dun dun dun dun duun dun dun.
Cid: Thank you for that thought provoking piece of stupidity.
T-G: Why do you feel it necessary to continually insult that which I create, type, think, and say? Are you under some kind of emotional stress that causes you to be so irate with those which are paying you, however little, decent wages to do this garbage? Why, Cid, why?
Cid: Hey man! I didn't come here for counseling! If I wanted counseling, I'd go see my psychiatrist! She costs only $100 an hour, and at least she listens to my opinions! I'm outta here!
Cid stomps from the set, and his angry footfalls echo as he leaves.
T-G: Oh, is it over?
