The Adventures of Super Spectacular Cool Guy
A semi-fictional story about a semi-fictional guy who does semi-fictional things with semi-fictional people and semi-fictional objects with semi-fictional Vitamin C and a few thousand semi-fictional marbles.
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Part 1 - The Cart Nazi
Once upon a time, there was a man who lived in a golf cart. It was an orange golf cart, and he considered it his home. He loved that cart. He did everything with it. He couldn't stand being without it. He would parade that cart around like a little boy with a new shotgun. He sure loved that cart.
But nobody liked him. He was a complete dickhole to everybody. He would yell at kids. He would discipline them for coming to school. He would blow simple things way out of proportion. He would make a big deal about a child going to the restroom. He would run over the young ones with his orange devil-mobile. They would scream and cry, and he would then ask them for their hall pass, even though it was currently lunch time. The poor children would cower and tell the evil Nazi that they had none, and he would run them over once again with his orange demonic chariot. The little children would scream and writhe in pain, but the Nazi would show no remorse.
But the children had a savior. Their savior was just a young man. But he was really cool. He was a hip guy. He was always in his house, had no friends, and had a crappy website. But he had a plan. His plan was simple: to write things about the Cart Nazi in the school newspaper. But the boy had no hookups, and the Cart Nazi continued on his reign of terror for months. The boy decided to wait. And then he would publish his story when the time was right: during the lunar eclipse. The boy plotted for a while. And he got tired of plotting, so he looked at porn. The boy became "excited" and stopped plotting. But then he realized that the lunar eclipse was at hand, and the window of opportunity was quickly closing.
Part 2 - The Upside-Down Watch Keeps Ticking
Running against time, the savior was running out of options. The savior didn't run very fast either; he was white. But he had a plan. Wait, he didn't have a plan. Yeah, he was pretty screwed, at least until he came up with a plan, of course.
He glanced at his watch. "Fifty-one-colon-eight?! What the hell kind of time is that?!" he muttered to himself. "Oh well." He kept running towards that one thing. Yes, that one thing. But he got lost and promptly got the munchies. He decided to eat some bean and cheese burritos with ranch dressing. After filling up on four of those not-so-delicious "things", he vomited on the sidewalk and remembered where he was going.
Once he got to that one spot, he did that one thing with that one guy. He was pretty happy. Being happy reminded him of his original goal: read more porn. Nope, wait. That wasn't it. He still had to write about the Nazi in the newspaper. So he sat down and got to work. He typed into the late hours of the night. While toiling at the keyboa—wait, he didn't have a keyboard with him. Why would he have a keyboard with him when he was running around going to that one spot? He just realized he wasted four more hours of the limited amount of time before the lunar eclipse would take place. He was screwed.
The Adventures of Super Spectacular Cool Guy
Part 3 - Doin' the Happy Dance
The savior was getting tired of rushing to beat the lunar eclipse, so he decided to take his sweet time. After all, he had at least five months until the eclipse.
"I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance. I'm doin' the happy dance." The savior made it very clear to the world that he was performing the 'happy dance' by saying that he was "doin' the happy dance". He danced quite well.
He was a dancin' fool. Yes, indeed. Babes like dancing. So he got babes. They were all over him. They thoroughly enjoyed his presence. He liked their boobies. Yes, indeed. They sidetracked his main quest so he had to ignore their luscious properties for once. He was quite distraught, but he would pull through. He would save the world in the end. Well, maybe not. He couldn't help but stare at those delicious boobies. He drooled. And the lunar eclipse was barely five months away. The world was doomed, probably. Oh well. He had boobies.
Part 4 - Boobie, Boobie, Boobie, He Got Lots of Boobies
Oh yes, the savior had lots of boobies. They weren't exactly his, but he liked to think that. Big ones and tasty ones. Small ones and juicy ones. He loved boobies. All he had to do was snap his fingers and he could have a pair of breasts in his face in seven seconds or less, guaranteed. He thought it was great fun. In fact, he found it to be loads of fun. It was so much fun that he decided to write a poem...
One boob,
two boob,
three boob,
blue boob.
Big boob,
small boob,
left boob,
right boob.
Juicy boob,
tasty boob,
juicy boob,
tasty boob,
juicy boob,
tasty boob,
juicy boob,
tasty boob.
Boob,
boob,
boob,
boob.
He thought his poem was awesome. It made him very happy. He would read it to the babes. They would giggle and he would watch their boobs jiggle. Oh, it was the best. He enjoyed every moment of it. It was all spectacular, with the chicks and boobs, until he woke up. What a shock. Going from boobs all over to back to being a loser with no chicks really took a toll on that young man. He sat in the corner and wept. He wept for four long and miserable months. He finally stood up, walked over to the opposite corner of the room, urinated on the wall, and returned to his original corner. He wept for another two weeks. Now he was actually running out of time. This wasn't good. Oh no, it was pretty bad.
Part 5 - There's a Hole in Reality through which We Can Look if We Wish
Feeling absolutely miserable, the savior decided to look through the aforementioned hole. In that hole, he saw many wonderful and amazing things. He saw things that changed the way he thought about life. He saw things that changed the way he saw life. He saw things that made him cry, and he saw things that made him laugh. But the one thing that he saw that is actually worth mentioning was his fishy friend...
In a bottle of noodles, the boy found a small green fish. The fish told a fish story that he could grant him any wish.
"Listen here, boy,” said the small green fish. "I can grant you any wish, well, pretty much any wish. All wishes I can grant must be pursuant to Section 50937.2764 of the Small Green Fish Wish Granting Penal Code, which, in your case, you shouldn't worry your pretty face.”
"Okay,” the boy said. "I think I understand.”
The fish rolled up his sleeves and said "Your wish is my command...”
"I need to save the world,” the boy told the fish. "Can you help me with that wish?”
"Oh, I dunno, man. I don't think I can, for you see, a wish like that, I'm afraid I cannot grant, for reasons not set forth by me.” The genie fish told the boy about his impossible wish.
"Oh, boy,” exclaimed the boy. "What's wrong with my wish, Mr. Fish?”
"Well, for you, a wish like that cannot come true,” said the semi-aquatic wish-granting fishy-fish-fish-fish. "If you want a palace of pearls or a bunch of beautiful girls, that's child's play; I could grant those wishes all day. But you asked for something wonderful, which, I admit, is very admirable, but won't work out well. The world is a big place with many a troubled face in need of wishes from other fishes. But your desire may only be granted by a power much higher than little old me, you see. So let me get back to my home so I can call my best friend Paul on his cellular phone.”
"I'm screwed... I really need your help, dude...” The boy sought the fish's thoughts. "Please don't make me ask twice for just some plain old helpful advice...”
"What makes you think that you can save the world without a pal? You need a friend; go find a gal! But don't pick the first chick you meet off the street; you need to find one that's better than them all! So off you be... you'll do well, as far as I can see...” The fish clapped his hands together and didn't quite disappear into thin air. Only his head and straw hat with two holes in the top remained. The hat had two holes in the top because it previously belonged to a horse. "Aww, crap.”
"Thanks!” The boy flew off into the Jell-o as quickly as his wings and Baby Ruths would take his spherical frame.
Well, that's the end of that part of the story. Will he save the world? Will he find a girl? I don't know, but it is time to go to the show with a black crow down low, aight yo? Sorry, my rhymes suck and I can't help it.
Part 6 - The Flexing of the Powers
Now that the boy had a plan, he was going to actually accomplish something. He had to find a faithful sidekick. She had to have super-duper powers and a radiant smile that could melt evil-doers everywhere. His plan was looking wonderful until he realized that girls like that are few and far between. But he wasn't about to give up yet. He had thirteen days to save the world from the Nazi of the Carts. He shoved Chewbacca off of the scooter, hopped on, and set off down the road with the wind in his hair.
The first town that he came across was strangely filled with scary looking forks, so he proceeded to the next hamlet, which was strangely filled with scary looking marshmallows. The next village was deserted and strangely filled with, uh, well, nothing. No kids flying around; no chipmunks sitting around all sweaty and lethargic; no mossy logs. Just some houses and sand and purple cacti.
Everything was looking just peachy-keen and empty, until the savior noticed something was wrong. He saw a girl run out from behind a sand dune, fall to her knees, and start crying. He rushed over there to find a chick about his age who was slightly battered and mostly beaten.
“I've f-f-failed,” she wept. “We are all d-d-doomed... Oh nooooo...”
“Hey, cheer up. Nothing could be that bad. Just try it again later,” he told her.
“You d-d-don't understand.” Tears filled her soft face once more. “I have to s-s-save the world, but I c-c-can't. And now we are all screwed.”
“I have to save the world too,” he said. “But I can't either. I need help.”
“F-f-fine. You help me with my little problem, and I-I-I'll do anything you need me to do.”
“You'll do anything?!” the boy quickly asked.
“Do all boys think alike? I'll do almost anything to help you save the world.” Her s-s-stuttering s-s-stopped.
“Well, that's fine. And yes, I'll help ya out. Whaddaya need?”
“I need to kill the Floating Eye of Death™.” Her voice grew solemn.
“The Floating Eye of Death™?! Oh no. I'm afraid I can't help you,” he said.
“Too bad. You already said that you were going to help me. Now get helping,” she commanded.
“Fine then. Where is this Floating Eye of Death™ you speak of?” he asked.
“Well, dummy, he's about, umm, say twenty, maybe thirty feet behind you.” The girl kept her cool under pressure.
“Ah crap! What do I do? How do I kill him?” the boy was flustered.
“How should I know?! Use your brain and think of something! Hurry!”
Right then and there, the boy did the only thing he could think of doing: throw a rock at the Floating Eye of Death™. The fist-sized object struck the Floating Eye of Death™ in the—what else?—eye. The Floating Eye of Death™ quickly fell to the ground, shrank and disappeared. The only thing that remained of the giant eye was a just a memory.
“Nice job. Now that we took care of the Floating Eye of Death™, I am at your service. So what's next?” She sounded anxious to do some serious damage to evil-doers.
“Well, we have to stop the Cart Nazi,” he replied.
“The Cart Nazi?”
“Yeah, the one-and-only Cart Nazi. I'll tell you more later. Hey, you never told me your name...” the boy said.
“You can call me Danger Chick. And your name?”
“Just call me... Super Spectacular Cool Guy!!!” She clearly wasn't impressed at his seemingly impressive title. “Or you can call me plain old Scott for short.”
“All right then, Scott, let's go.”
The two made their way off into the sunset. Now the boy had a chance against the Cart Nazi. And a hot chick as a friend. And a scooter. And some clothes. And some bubble gum. And shoes, too.
Part 7 - Meanwhile, Back At Home...
Meanwhile, back at home, absolutely nothing happened.
Part 8 - The Story Behind the Danger and the Chick
It had been raining nonstop for almost two days. The two weary travelers had managed to set up their trusty old wigwam during one of the few breaks in the storm in a secluded meadow filled with poppies and buttercups. They managed to start a small fire which was almost impossible to keep lit. The torrential downpour kept the campfire from radiating any real heat, but the small amount of warmth they received from the fire was much appreciated.
The boy and the girl scraped up some fruit shavings from a nearby applesauce construction yard the previous day and feasted upon the slivers of some very sour Granny Smith rinds and some quite bland Red (Un)Delicious skins. It wasn't much, but it was better than eating the moldy gym socks they had found two days ago. No words were exchanged; the two were too wet and cold to really feel like talking. They just shivered and kept throwing bundles of wet twigs on the tiny flames.
The clouds in the sky prevented the now waning moon from peeking out and showing its friendly smile to brighten up this darker-than-normal night. By the time the duo had finished their excuse for a dinner, the fire finally died and was reduced to smoldering ashes. Everything was almost pitch black now and even the flowers had lost their bright yellow to the night.
“This sucks,” said the boy.
“Yup,” said the girl.
“Okay,” said the boy. “Goodnight.” The savior closed his eyes.
“I know I told you that my private life was to remain private and all, but I've been thinking and I want to tell you a little about me. You must understand that there are still a bunch of things about that are to remain shrouded in mystery.” Danger Chick didn't realize that her friend was already asleep and continued to talk about her past. “I ran away from my parents two years ago. I haven't heard from them since.”
She continued to discuss her life with the sleeping boy. He would have been bored out of his mind if he was awake, so he was lucky to get some much needed rest.
“So, after I rescued the house from the burning man, I set off on a personal journey; my own private pilgrimage. I wandered the countryside aimlessly, stopping at small towns along the way to pick fights with desktop computers and their evil Mac henchmen. I still didn't know what I was looking for until... until I found you. You gave me a reason to be here; a reason to keep living; a reason to save the world once again.” She broke out in tears. “I owe you everything. And I think that I am ready to, umm, you know, prove my love to you...”
Scott moaned in his sleep. She interpreted the sound as a “yes” and proceeded to move closer to him. When she was roughly 4.7364 inches away from his motionless body, the rain ceased and the sun came out (in the middle of the night).
“Dang it! Turn the light out so I can get some sleep around here!” Scott yelled.
“You know what Scott?! No! No! No! Forget you! I actually wanted to—” She was cut down short by loud rustling outside of the wigwam. “Umm... Scott?”
“What now?! I'm trying to sleep, so just leave me alone!” Scott was quite disgruntled.
“There's s-s-something outside of the wigwam...” she whispered.
“Uh... I'll go check it out...” Scott got up and slowly venured out of the wigwam and into the light. What he saw there both amazed him and pissed him off at the same time. A giant chipmunk with an even more enormous head lamp was standing there, holding a cardboard sign that read “spAre A nuT pLeeze”.
“Spare a nut please, mister?” the chipmunk asked.
“No, and go away. You woke me up and pissed me off.” Scott was pissed.
“Spare a nut please, mister?” the chipmunk asked.
“Look, I've already told you to go away. The only nuts I have are the ones that are kind of permanently attached to me, so I can't spare any nuts.” Scott continued to grow more and more impatient every second he spent with the bastard of a large chipmunk.
“Spare a nut please, mister?” the chipmunk asked, yet again.
“Okay. I hate to do this, but you leave me no other choice.” The boy reached into his pocket and removed a seemingly innocuous, small black box with two metal prongs on the end and proceeded to move closer to the freakishly large rodent.
“Ooh... a nut...” The chipmunk reached out to grab the box and was met with a crippling 10,000 volt shock that burnt off most of the fur on his hand/paw thing. He was knocked backwards and landed with a loud thump. The only thing the chipmunk could do was moan.
“I think you killed him. That's not good,” said Danger Chick. “Umm... what do we do now?”
“We, uh, poke him with a stick?” Scott was trying to guess what to do so he couldn't make a clear cut statement and ended up answering her with a question.
“Okay...” Danger Chick picked up a long stick and jabbed the mostly unconscious chipmunk in the ear. The chipmunk moaned. “Nope. No response.”
“Umm, point and laugh at him?” Scott always came up with brilliant ideas. The two outstretched their arms, extended their index fingers, and let out counterfeit laughs. The chipmunk just moaned.
“Why don't you just unzip him?” asked Danger Chick.
“Uh, well, that was my next idea.”
“I'm sure it was. Well, what are you waiting for?” Danger Chick was growing impatient.
The boy walked slowly forward, stooped down, and placed his hand on the silver zipper running down the back of the chipmunk. “I'm scared,” he said.
“Do I look like I care?” she said facetiously.
“Okay, okay. I get the point already.” Scott pulled the zipper down to the base and spread apart the back. Inside he saw a robot, still melted and smoking from the taser shock. It was too badly damaged to do anything. “A robot chipmunk?! This whole cloning and evolution thing really frightens me,” he said.
“It was made by somebody, you moron. Check the tag.”
Scott read, “ ‘Property of Evil Cart Nazi Guy Enterprises’ This robot was sent back in time to change the future! Whoa!” he exclaimed.
“No, it wasn't. The Cart Nazi made it to try to stop us now. There is no time travel crap. Man, this guy is truly evil.” Danger Chick seemed to know everything about the robot...
“Well, what do we do now?” Scott couldn't stop asking stupid questions. With Scott's words, the rain suddenly started once again and soaked the robot on the ground. Sparks flew all over and pieces of robot guts exploded everywhere. The two stared at each other in amazement as soon as the free fireworks show stopped. “Well, that answered my question,” he remarked.
The two walked away from what was left of the robot and headed back into the wigwam. Scott would have gotten some if he had actually used his brain and not fell asleep instantly. Poor guy. Danger Chick just cuddled with him while he was sleeping. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Part 9 - The Morning After
With only ten short days remaining until something really, really, really bad would happen, the savior and his sidekick woke up feeling like utter crap. They both yawned a yawn of yawning and shivered in the morning cold together. Let's just say that it was a long night and neither of them slept much... [What were you thinking about, pervert?]
The storm must have completely subsided during the night, as there wasn't even a single cloud in sight. Danger Chick started cooking what inedible food they had left over. She sucked a lot... at cooking. [Pervert.] The food tasted like burnt monkey retinas and looked like them too. He ate her out... of all the food they still had left. [You can stop thinking dirty thoughts sometime soon.] This made a trip to the local Snacka Shacka an absolute must.
The savior, being a male, wanted her on top... of all the packing that they had to do before they left the small little clearing. [Ahem. Calm down you horny bastard.] He decided to just kick back in his favorite recliner and admire the chick and the little motions that only she could make. He was stoked, whether he knew it or not, just to have a chick all to himself.
By the time the boy had finished his little kick-back-while-thinking relaxation session, they were all packed and good to go. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Things were going pretty good for the super duo.
They headed out, past the UFO crash landing site and the adjacent StarButt's Coffee, past the MPA (Midget Punchers Anonymous) building, past the flying horse stables, and even past the landlocked pirate ship. The Snacka Shacka was just barely around the corner when all of a sudden, without any apparent cause, for no particular reason, lacking any perceivable explanation, out of nowhere, came a small, cute and fluffily furry puppy with a tiny parcel on its back, hustling down the path toward the two people.
“Hi little puppy.” Danger Chick tried to get the little guy's attention as as he slowed down to greet them. “Come here. I won't hurt you.”
The baby dog looked at the two curiously and cautiously before deciding to meet them. He scampered toward the girl, who promptly snatched the dog up into her arms and started cuddling with the puppy immediately. He started licking her face, and she smiled and giggled. The chick eventually realized that it was only Scott licking her face, and she told him to stop.
When the affection from all parties slowed to a halt, the girl removed the miniscule package from the dog's back. It was only about a two inch cubic box, ornately wrapped in the finest packaging tape available to man. She sliced through the tape with her nails, and pulled out a small sheet of folded parchment.
She unfolded the paper and began to read the letter. She could not believe what it said...