AMAZING TRUE NATURE STORIES: BEAR ATTACK!!
(Ed. Note I - This somewhat true story was found scribbled on the back of a completely piggishly-devoured whole bag of Doritos. Not the small bags, the big ones. Can you believe it? Eaten in one sitting. Ridiculous)
(Ed. Notes II - The names have been changed for no particular reason)
My name is Damon Sch - I mean ... Harrison Ford. Harrison Ford. My girlfriend ... Jennifer Lopez! No wait ... Beyonce. Yeah, that's it, my girlfriend Beyonce and I decided to get out of the city and away from our busy lives. We went to her cottage, located on the serene Gull River in the bustling metropolis of Norland. ( If you say it fast enough it sounds like you're saying New Orleans with a Cajun accent. When the person you're talking to says "New Orleans!?!" Just smile and walk away)
Beyonce and I, or B as I call her in our private, intimate moments, enjoy our down time together. No agents, no ... saving the world from super criminals. No music videos. No MTV movie award ceremonies. What are those anyway? "Hey, you kinda suck. Want an award?"
I digress. B and I spent the day sunning our buff, Hollywood bodies. I talked about how horrible a film maker George Lucas was and how I could have pulled a better script out of my autism- struck illiterate grandma's ass. B talked about how she'd love a shot at J Lo, just her and J Lo, one on one. She'd show that bee-otch what for! (Coming to Much More Music this fall: Heat Meter! J Lo v. Beyonce. Watch for it ... this fall!!!) We watched the fish swimming idly by, the ducks paddling by as the hour slowly drifted by. The sun slowly descending, our Hollywood thoughts turned to dinner.
We'd given the servants the weekend off. It was the least we could do. We made them work Christmas. And Christiana did miss her Mom's funeral when B stepped on the pebble. It nearly pierced the skin. Christiana held her till she cried herself to sleep. When she woke B had almost completely forgotten her pebble scare. But her next scare would be one she, and I, Harrison Ford, would never forget.
We barbecued. The hot juices from our sausage and shishkebobs dripped down our faces and made us HOT. That night B and I made love the way all Hollywood types do: In soft focus and with slow dissolves. After we laid on our bed strewn with ambrosia and soft petals and talked about our love. Then we heard it: the crash of Destiny ... and the BBQ.
Like one of my many heroic characters (and perhaps less popular comedic ones: Working Girl anybody?) I leapt from our bed of love . I ran to the window and there I looked my destiny straight in the eye. But this was reality. There were no klieg lights or animals trainers. No. I stood only feet away from certain death. I stood only feet away from ... a KILLER BEAR!
The only thing between B and I and becoming bear diner was a half inch of cottage window. (do they not know that eating this late at night - it must have been past midnight - is so bad for your weight? No wonder bears are so fat) Heroically I tapped on the window. The animal had knocked over the BBQ hoping to lick the grill clean but seeing us probably changed its mind. It starred at me for what seemed like seconds. I starred back, tapping the glass again and again till my knuckles were raw and sore. "Damn it B," screamed like Han Solo screaming for Chewbacca to do something. "Get me some mittens or a glove!" But it was too late the bear was slowly getting away. Why didn't I chase him and break his neck? Because I knew we'd meet again. Next Week:
BEAR ATTACK II: THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL
(Ed. Notes II - The names have been changed for no particular reason)
My name is Damon Sch - I mean ... Harrison Ford. Harrison Ford. My girlfriend ... Jennifer Lopez! No wait ... Beyonce. Yeah, that's it, my girlfriend Beyonce and I decided to get out of the city and away from our busy lives. We went to her cottage, located on the serene Gull River in the bustling metropolis of Norland. ( If you say it fast enough it sounds like you're saying New Orleans with a Cajun accent. When the person you're talking to says "New Orleans!?!" Just smile and walk away)
Beyonce and I, or B as I call her in our private, intimate moments, enjoy our down time together. No agents, no ... saving the world from super criminals. No music videos. No MTV movie award ceremonies. What are those anyway? "Hey, you kinda suck. Want an award?"
I digress. B and I spent the day sunning our buff, Hollywood bodies. I talked about how horrible a film maker George Lucas was and how I could have pulled a better script out of my autism- struck illiterate grandma's ass. B talked about how she'd love a shot at J Lo, just her and J Lo, one on one. She'd show that bee-otch what for! (Coming to Much More Music this fall: Heat Meter! J Lo v. Beyonce. Watch for it ... this fall!!!) We watched the fish swimming idly by, the ducks paddling by as the hour slowly drifted by. The sun slowly descending, our Hollywood thoughts turned to dinner.
We'd given the servants the weekend off. It was the least we could do. We made them work Christmas. And Christiana did miss her Mom's funeral when B stepped on the pebble. It nearly pierced the skin. Christiana held her till she cried herself to sleep. When she woke B had almost completely forgotten her pebble scare. But her next scare would be one she, and I, Harrison Ford, would never forget.
We barbecued. The hot juices from our sausage and shishkebobs dripped down our faces and made us HOT. That night B and I made love the way all Hollywood types do: In soft focus and with slow dissolves. After we laid on our bed strewn with ambrosia and soft petals and talked about our love. Then we heard it: the crash of Destiny ... and the BBQ.
Like one of my many heroic characters (and perhaps less popular comedic ones: Working Girl anybody?) I leapt from our bed of love . I ran to the window and there I looked my destiny straight in the eye. But this was reality. There were no klieg lights or animals trainers. No. I stood only feet away from certain death. I stood only feet away from ... a KILLER BEAR!
The only thing between B and I and becoming bear diner was a half inch of cottage window. (do they not know that eating this late at night - it must have been past midnight - is so bad for your weight? No wonder bears are so fat) Heroically I tapped on the window. The animal had knocked over the BBQ hoping to lick the grill clean but seeing us probably changed its mind. It starred at me for what seemed like seconds. I starred back, tapping the glass again and again till my knuckles were raw and sore. "Damn it B," screamed like Han Solo screaming for Chewbacca to do something. "Get me some mittens or a glove!" But it was too late the bear was slowly getting away. Why didn't I chase him and break his neck? Because I knew we'd meet again. Next Week:
BEAR ATTACK II: THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL
posted by Soft Headed Liberal at 8:25 PM
2 Comments:
I was looking forward to the part when the bear joined you and B in some more hot love making. I have to say I'm pretty disappointed.
that is bloody brilliant. bloody brilliant. Really craving shish kebobs right now....
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