Saturday, June 03, 2006
The New Face of Terror
People of This Earth: Please save this picture. We may need it one day when my children are known as International Criminals and I have gone missing. You can take it around and show it to people, "Have you seen this chick? Sure, she's weird and dumb and dangerously insane, as well as Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know, but we miss her! She made up the phrase 'ham donut' and that means she is Important to the Interwebs!"
You may be wondering what the hell I am talking about. Well, I've come to the conclusion that my kids are terrorists.
See? This is my son brushing up on his hand-to-hand combat skizillz that he learned in an Al-Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan a few years ago. Either that, or he's being a dork. One of the two.
Anyway, so I heard about the thing in Toronto from Skippy and I realized my kids might be in on the plot to blow up Toronto with ammonium nitrate.
Why would I think that my sweet, mild-mannered, adorable children are in reality fiendish terrorists and members of Al-Qaeda, you ask?
Well, it's quite simple.
They've been very well-behaved since last night.
And that means they're up to something.
Usually when I am concerned that they are up to something, I think it's that they are plotting to lull me into a false sense of security by behaving really well, only to all of a sudden turn into Raving Banshees from Hell and make me miserable.
That's how it usually goes.
But in light of the events in Toronto, I have decided they are behaving nicely because they don't want me to figure out they're in Al-Qaeda and planning to blow up some igloos or whatever it is they have in Canadia.
Well, they can't fool me. I'm on to them. I know What's What.
And now that I've told the Interwebs at large of their Nefarious Plot, I'm going to get disappeared. I just know it.
Tonight, while I sleep, they will steal into my bedroom - Asher wearing a funny headdress and Meredith in a burkha - and hit me over the head with the Batmobile Asher carts around with him all the time. After I am unconscious, they will realize that now is a good time to raid the fridge, and they will go eat all of my chips and salsa.
But after that...oh, after that, they will come back and Asher will put my limp form into some garbage bags while Meredith keeps a Kalashnikov trained on my forehead. Then they will drag me out to the waiting van, operated by vile Al-Qaeda members, take me to the desert and bury me up to my neck in sand, just like on Sleeper Cell.
Then they'll take turns throwing rocks at my head 'til I die!
And while they throw the rocks, they'll say things like, "This is for all the times you didn't let me have candy for dinner, Great White Satan!" and "Take that, you filthy American whore what won't let me stay up til 1 in the morning! WHEN I SAY I AM NOT TIRED, I MEAN IT!"
And I'll be all like, "But I got you a Happy Meal today!"
And they'll be all like, "YEAH, BUT IT DIDN'T MAKE US HAPPY AT ALL!"
And I will curse McDonald's with the last breath in my body, because if only their Happy Meals actually produced happy - instead of a vague sense of unease - I might not be getting killed by my tiny Al-Qaeda-loving children.
So, how was your Saturday?
link | posted by Zombie at 4:58 PM |
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