One fine day in the Paleolithic, on a sand bar known only as Floridia, a squalling baby super hero was born. Only, he wasn't a super hero yet, he was just a squalling baby that looked like a drowned rat with spiky hair. Now, his parents (two wonderful people known only as Suelynnsarajanemichelle and Joegregmikegarydarryl who spent their days lounging on the beach, sipping margaritas, and occasionally blowing up large federal buildings) were both members of the Hezbollah Execution Linguist group, and had high hopes for their cute little drowned rat, who they promptly named Pistachio, for their favorite after-dinner mint.
As soon as little Pistachio the Rat was old enough (at the tender age of 4), his parents (Suelynnsarajanemichelle and Joegregmikegarydarryl) sent him away to the H.E.L.S.T.F. (Hezebollah Execution Linguist Special Training Farm) for training. Well, Pistachio the Rat was a very good student, so he quickly advanced in the twisted heirarchy of the H.E.L.S.T.F. He got regular haircuts, lots of Bass ale (a very good beer) and his very own sharpened drumsticks for self-defense against the native beer-pilfering turkeys. He was trained in the art of Execution Linguistics. (Basically, he learned how to talk people to death.) But poor little Pistachio-Rat wasn't happy. He wanted to spike his hair, drink Guinness, and actually wanted to DRUM with those drumsticks! So little Pistachio-Rat secretly practiced his drumming, bribed the barber to let his hair grow a little longer, and got his best friend to sneak him Guinness in Bass bottles.
Well, Pistachio-Rat kept this up for some time, but one day, the Head Honcho at the H.E.L.S.T.F. (the Hezbollah Execution Linguist Special Training Farm) noticed that little Pistachio-Rat was spiking his hair, and his drumsticks were (*gasp!*) dull! The H.H. (Head Honcho) was very upset, and sent little Pistachio-Rat back to his parents (Suelynnsarajanemichelle and Joegregmikegarydarryl) with a long letter explaining that poor little Pistachio-Rat just wasn't cut out to be a Hezbollah Execution Linguist! Suelynnsarajanemichelle and Joegregmikegarydarryl were very upset, and dubbed little Pistachio "Ashton," which in the native tongue of the HeebieJeebie tribe of Northern Macedonia meant "Not cut out to be a Hezbollah Execution Linguist." So little Pistachio was then Pistachio-Ashton, which at least sounded better than Pistachio-Rat. His parents (Suelynnsarajanemichelle and Joegregmikegarydarryl) were still hopeful, so they secured a position for their son at the H.E.L.S.T.F. as a (dun dun dun!) Official Hezbollah Toilet Cleaner. Well, little Pistachio-Ashton was NOT happy with this job, so after two weeks of cleaning toilets, he ran away from the H.E.L.S.T.F. to seek his fortune in the wilds of Northern Macedonia.
Pistachio-Ashton journeyed for many, many days. All that journeying, and no beer, made him a wee bit whacko, and somewhere along the way, he decided he was a super-hero. He acquired a white and yellow striped Speedo and a mauve cape trimmed with marabou and sparkly beads, and, since Northern Macedonia was rather short on super-heroes, they adopted little Pistachio-Ashton as their patron super-hero. Pistachio-Ashton legally changed his name from Pistachio to Super Pistachio Ashton Man. (Hereafter referred to only as S.P.A.M.) He practiced his drumming and became a renowned rescuer of melting ice cream.
And thus, so it was, when, in the summer of '69, that S.P.A.M. heard the piteous cry of young Bob McLugie and young Melvin Tiddlewinks, and the trio became fast friends.
THE END
By: Nogs "The Nasty One" Warburton 7/20/99
GO TO YOUR HOME!! HOME!!! LEAVE!! HOME!! I'm okay...really...
