| God damn OW. |
[Jul. 19th, 2005|10:37 pm] |
Bad news, my friends. It has all happened so quickly… I don’t know where to begin. I found out on the fourteenth of July that since I am made of wood, I am technically a puppet. Some may not see this as a problem, as so few know of the great puppet war currently raging. I was drafted by the royal Canadian puppet brigade to fight the krauts. I did not want to fight, but the evil of Puppet Hitler must be defeated. So it was necessary for me to take arms and defeat the evil puppet Germans. Here’s a photograph of myself walking off after reporting for duty to the leader of leaders, Sir Puppet Winston Churchill. (the men on the tank just drove it over from the rental shop, no nonpuppet combatants, it’s in the puppet Geneva convention)
I reported to duty in the wee hours of the morning, I was issued my rifle and helmet and I marched the fields of France. Unfortunately, the battles were in Germany. Damn maps… anyhoo, here I am walking to the train station to hop a freight car to Germany!
Well, to the meat and bones of our story… I was hit by puppet shellfire. Puppet shells are like real shells, only before exploding they wriggle their eyebrows and make exaggerated gestures with their arms. Anyway, it blew up and blasted my legs off. Turns out I still have a central nervous system, and blood. Shitty way to find out. This is how the medics found me.
I made a full recovery, though. I received the purple heart for my services to the puppet nation. Here I am at home. I bear my wounds with pride, however, because I received them in service to my countrymen. Also, I’m made of wood, I’ll just have that chum of mine from the hardware store build me some new ones, Christ, these are my ninth set of arms. Oh yeah, bein’ a puppet has it’s perks. Till next time, I’m having a lot of troubles with stairs right now.
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| Dorito god. |
[Jul. 13th, 2005|03:42 pm] |
Greetings! It is I, Pinnochi-bellan. I am sorry about the delay in my updates, but typing is difficult without fingers. I've completed the entry, however, and I'd like to say, I have been busy. The night started at The local all night food shoppe, where I purchased some delicious combos from the shopkeep.
I was, however, attacked by said shopkeep for misuse of the take a penny tray, I exceeded the limit of four, appearantly, and was captured my the shopkeep's minions. They stored me in the cooler while the carbonite was heating up in the microwave, (I owed some money to Jeff the Hutt.)
I was only freed by a friend's decision that a drumstick was the cure to his hunger, I leapt from the case as soon as he saw me, and we were ably to defeat the evil shopkeep with a contraption made up of a packet of pumkin seeds, a flavoured condom, a copy of Black Belt magazine, and an old man's slipper sole. She'll not be bothering me again. And we punked some free chips and stuff. I thoroughly enjoy Dill pickle chips, so tasty.
Now, I must tell you of a strange event that took place at the home of a friend, we arrived from the shoppe with our supplies and were greeted by a strange and enormous bowl of doritos in which there was planted a sword. A voice eminated from the tasty snacks, telling us that only one of true valour, bravery, and courage could take the sword from the doritos. And so naturally, we all tried in turns. First was Sir Allan of Humphrey, known for his tracts of fertile and turnip-producing land, and his historic defeat of the Brentbeast. Sir Allan was not successful.
Next, Gregory the Kerr tried his hand. Famous for his mastery on the electric lute and his ability to launch a gas attack with a mere thought, he was best known for his rescue of Erin the tousle-hared from the choklelephants. He was also not successful.
Mikhael, son of Wally, then attempted the removal of the sword. Mikhael is little known, but demonstrated his great powers by turning a ping-pong ball into a slice of cheese pizza with a imple incantation. His attempt was also unsuccessful.
Next in line to make the attempt was Dave. Dave has no fame or great accomplishemnts, he just hangs out with legendary warriors so that people will think he's just a husky squire or something, I dunno. He couldn't do it either.
Now, once all the nobility and great warriors, and Dave, had tried they knew not what to do. I knew nothing of this, as I was outside brushing the heroes' horses, and hosing the crap of Dave's van. I was called in to make the attempt, I took hold of the sword, plunged deeply in the dorito bowl,
And it burst from the nacho abyss!
All this to let you know I now own every dorito on the face of the earth now and forever. If any dispute me, they are welcome to challenge me for the sword, but I shall defeat all who oppose my triangular cheesy might!
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| Hello, I'm Pinnochibellan, and I can only hope to one day be a real boy. |
[Jul. 3rd, 2005|08:13 pm] |
Hello, My name's Pinncochi Bellan, and I am what happens when you do flaming turpentine shooters. Goodness me, it seemed like so much fun, the flames, the fumes, the lovely buzz... but it was not fun. I woke up in a ditch, just as you see me now. I've learned to live with it though, and this journal is to chronicle my whacky adventures. They're whacky! The following is a photo of me in my favourite chair, It's the photo I had taken when i ran for Prime minister of Great-Britain, I should tell you that story sometime.
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