Okay it has been a while since I last posted and I promise you there is a reason for that. I have been thinking about the direction I want to take my blog so I decided I'm going to fill it with whatever comes to mind, which is excatly what I was doing before but different. These things will include short stories, speaking of which I am working on one now to be used later on the blog. Really, it doesn't make any sense but to be honest I do find it rather enjoyable to write. However, I do have a twisted sense of humour so others might not enjoy what I am writing as much as I do. So sit tight and wait fellow readers. It will be finished shortly.
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
The Pasty Battle
This is the story about the battle that changed the world. Well, it didn't really change the world but it changed mine so close enough. Before the battle, I didn't know that old ladies and Mexicans could be so vicious. Some old ladies could be grumpy but most are really nice and make delicious home-made biscuits and tell the boring stories that start with "back in the day." Mexicans are also normally non-threatening. Without them, we would not have the awesomeness of tacos! Old ladies and Mexicans are probably the most non-scary people that I would have thought of.
The fierce battle wasn't really a battle, it was a mere fight. But to be faced by three manic old ladies and two very angry Mexicans can really cause one to over exaggerate, therefore justifying the fact that it was a battle of epic proportions. What was the fight about you might ask? The fight was over a pasty. Yes folks, we fought over a pasty. Okay, so, I was hungry and you know when you're hungry and you go to the fridge right? And before your very eyes you find a feast fit for Satan himself and fist-pump, hit your hand on the roof of the fridge and swear at it for hurting before violently head-banging when the microwave beeps out to let you know that your food is hot and the smell invades your nostrils and you have a food-gasm when the first bite touches your tongue.
Unfortunately for me, there was no fist-pumping, no head-banging and no food-gasm. All there was were the deadly, icy daggers of "Holy shit who ate my leftovers" into the empty pit called "refrigerator". So, I went on a mighty quest to get food. I journeyed for a full five minutes to the little shop that sat on the corner of my street. I collapsed from lack of food and sheer laziness only ten centimetres from the door. It took all my strength and mental capacity to get back to my feet. Once I was steady, I charged in and yelled "I NEED SUSTENANCE!" Not really although that would have been awesome. What really happened was I walked over to the warm box thingy that I have never bothered to learn the name of and browsed their selection of sausage rolls, dagwood dogs and steak pies. That was when I saw it. It was beautiful!
The pasty was the tastiest looking item in the hot-keep-it-warm-box-thingamagig. The pasty was cooked to golden brown perfection that would crumble when you took one bite and I was sure that the filling was extremely delicious. My mouth began to water as I imagined eating the pasty. That was when I realised that I wasn't alone. I turned slowly and there they were, the old ladies and the Mexicans. The old ladies looked small and fragile and had warm smiles on their faces. They all carried yellow handbags and wore black dresses with floral print. Two old ladies had tightly permed white hair but the third old lady, the rebel she was, had locks of purple hair. I will call one old lady Scarf, because she had the coolest scarf ever created. I would honestly murder pixies and eat purple monkeys just to be able to touch that beast of a scarf. The second shall be called Pinky, because of the sheer fact that she was wearing way too much blush. And the rebel old lady, I'll just call her Rebel.
Now, the Mexicans. One of them looked exactly like Luigi which made no sense, since Luigi was Italian and this man was clearly Mexican. I was tempted to ask him if he knew where Mario was and if he had figured out that Princess Peach was sleeping with Bowser but realised that was inappropriate and would be awkward if he knew the answer. The other shall be called Not-Mario, obviously because he didn't look like Mario, leaving Luigi without his shorter ass-kicking brother. Anyway, all of them were staring at the pasty. I smirked because I was first in line; therefore the pasty was surely mine. I turned to order it right away when I was attacked from behind. I stumbled and hit my head on the hot-keep-it-warm box-thingy. I didn't know what to do.
"THAT PASTY IS MINE!" Screamed Not-Mario as he launched himself at me a second time. He scratched my back until he ripped the fibres of my shirt and drew blood. I can't recall when the others joined the fight. It was total chaos. Not-Mario battled the old ladies, Luigi battled Not-Mario, and all of them battled me. With me out of the way, one of them could retrieve the pasty. Rebel smacked me in the face with her bag, Pinky made me gag from the overwhelming stench of too much perfume, Scarf strangled me with her scarf, Not-Mario screeched more than fought and Luigi continuously kicked me in the shins. I decided to fight back. My fists flew into Not-Mario's stomach and he hit the wall with a sickening thud. I roundhouse kicked Luigi in the face and he cried out. It sounded like he said "Mamma mia! Mya face-a!" I most likely just imagined that part come to think of it. I then stole Rebel's handbag and spilled the contents on the floor, causing her to scrabble for her belongings. I ripped Scarf's scarf despite how desperately I wanted it and she cried out in agony, as if I had broken her arm or something. Lastly, I smudged Pinky's make-up, causing her to cry.
I was a bloody mess of torn clothes and smudged make-up but I had won. I was victorious. I hurriedly ordered the magnificent pasty and ran home before they could get revenge for the ass-whopping I had served them. When I was home, I opened the bag and there she was in all her pasty perfection. I took one bite, the bite of all bites...and spat it out. I cannot begin to describe how terrible, how vile, how foul it tasted. So, I learned an important lesson. If there is one pasty left and you have to battle Mexicans and old ladies to have it walk away, it wont be any good. By the way, the fight was totally not real. I was just completely bored and decided "How about I fuck with some peoples minds!" Enjoy the mind fuck folks!
The fierce battle wasn't really a battle, it was a mere fight. But to be faced by three manic old ladies and two very angry Mexicans can really cause one to over exaggerate, therefore justifying the fact that it was a battle of epic proportions. What was the fight about you might ask? The fight was over a pasty. Yes folks, we fought over a pasty. Okay, so, I was hungry and you know when you're hungry and you go to the fridge right? And before your very eyes you find a feast fit for Satan himself and fist-pump, hit your hand on the roof of the fridge and swear at it for hurting before violently head-banging when the microwave beeps out to let you know that your food is hot and the smell invades your nostrils and you have a food-gasm when the first bite touches your tongue.
Unfortunately for me, there was no fist-pumping, no head-banging and no food-gasm. All there was were the deadly, icy daggers of "Holy shit who ate my leftovers" into the empty pit called "refrigerator". So, I went on a mighty quest to get food. I journeyed for a full five minutes to the little shop that sat on the corner of my street. I collapsed from lack of food and sheer laziness only ten centimetres from the door. It took all my strength and mental capacity to get back to my feet. Once I was steady, I charged in and yelled "I NEED SUSTENANCE!" Not really although that would have been awesome. What really happened was I walked over to the warm box thingy that I have never bothered to learn the name of and browsed their selection of sausage rolls, dagwood dogs and steak pies. That was when I saw it. It was beautiful!
The pasty was the tastiest looking item in the hot-keep-it-warm-box-thingamagig. The pasty was cooked to golden brown perfection that would crumble when you took one bite and I was sure that the filling was extremely delicious. My mouth began to water as I imagined eating the pasty. That was when I realised that I wasn't alone. I turned slowly and there they were, the old ladies and the Mexicans. The old ladies looked small and fragile and had warm smiles on their faces. They all carried yellow handbags and wore black dresses with floral print. Two old ladies had tightly permed white hair but the third old lady, the rebel she was, had locks of purple hair. I will call one old lady Scarf, because she had the coolest scarf ever created. I would honestly murder pixies and eat purple monkeys just to be able to touch that beast of a scarf. The second shall be called Pinky, because of the sheer fact that she was wearing way too much blush. And the rebel old lady, I'll just call her Rebel.
Now, the Mexicans. One of them looked exactly like Luigi which made no sense, since Luigi was Italian and this man was clearly Mexican. I was tempted to ask him if he knew where Mario was and if he had figured out that Princess Peach was sleeping with Bowser but realised that was inappropriate and would be awkward if he knew the answer. The other shall be called Not-Mario, obviously because he didn't look like Mario, leaving Luigi without his shorter ass-kicking brother. Anyway, all of them were staring at the pasty. I smirked because I was first in line; therefore the pasty was surely mine. I turned to order it right away when I was attacked from behind. I stumbled and hit my head on the hot-keep-it-warm box-thingy. I didn't know what to do.
"THAT PASTY IS MINE!" Screamed Not-Mario as he launched himself at me a second time. He scratched my back until he ripped the fibres of my shirt and drew blood. I can't recall when the others joined the fight. It was total chaos. Not-Mario battled the old ladies, Luigi battled Not-Mario, and all of them battled me. With me out of the way, one of them could retrieve the pasty. Rebel smacked me in the face with her bag, Pinky made me gag from the overwhelming stench of too much perfume, Scarf strangled me with her scarf, Not-Mario screeched more than fought and Luigi continuously kicked me in the shins. I decided to fight back. My fists flew into Not-Mario's stomach and he hit the wall with a sickening thud. I roundhouse kicked Luigi in the face and he cried out. It sounded like he said "Mamma mia! Mya face-a!" I most likely just imagined that part come to think of it. I then stole Rebel's handbag and spilled the contents on the floor, causing her to scrabble for her belongings. I ripped Scarf's scarf despite how desperately I wanted it and she cried out in agony, as if I had broken her arm or something. Lastly, I smudged Pinky's make-up, causing her to cry.
I was a bloody mess of torn clothes and smudged make-up but I had won. I was victorious. I hurriedly ordered the magnificent pasty and ran home before they could get revenge for the ass-whopping I had served them. When I was home, I opened the bag and there she was in all her pasty perfection. I took one bite, the bite of all bites...and spat it out. I cannot begin to describe how terrible, how vile, how foul it tasted. So, I learned an important lesson. If there is one pasty left and you have to battle Mexicans and old ladies to have it walk away, it wont be any good. By the way, the fight was totally not real. I was just completely bored and decided "How about I fuck with some peoples minds!" Enjoy the mind fuck folks!
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