Post by Jack of Blades on Apr 7, 2007 16:13:11 GMT -5
(As much as CD would like to be seen as some sort of autonomous 'heavy-metal' progeny of Satan and Rudolph Hess, he sure does enjoy his coffee. Every Saturday, him and Nate Nytro journey to the nearest 'Java Palace' and get doped up on Mocha Choca Laca and begin to discuss such important topics as retro Nintendo, 'Roadkill Records' or whatever those hypocrites are known as and how CD can continue to twist Seth Lerch around his little finger and still find himself in the main event picture.)
Nate Nytro: Enjoying your coffee, CD?
Creeping Death: HAXX0RED!
Nate Nytro: Did I forget the cinnamon? So sorry.
Creeping Death: ARGH! Ri-DONK-ULOUS! LOL-E-POP! MONKEYS!
Nate Nytro: Indeed, I couldn't believe that the Dolphins beat the spread either.
(One of those hideous denzinens present to all coffee houses approaches the two, yes, that's right, a waitress.)
Waitress: Can I get you guys anything else?
Creeping Death: FAIRIES!
Waitress: Anything that isn't fictional, hun?
Creeping Death: IGUANA SCROTUMS!
Waitress: Yeah, I don't think we serve those, hun!
Nate Nytro: I apologize. My friend/bully suffers from a rare condition where he can only rattle off a list of cult internet phenomena. To this day, he hasn't said a single thing meaningful or implicit of a personality beyond tired cliches.
Waitress: That must be terrible.
Nate Nytro: It is.
Creeping Death: LONELYGIRL15! CAN'T SLEEP CLOWNS WILL EAT ME! WOFLCOPTER!
Waitress: WOFL? I heard waffles, I'll get you some waffles.
Nate Nytro: Thank you.
(The waitress strolls off to place the order, scratching the dried egg mixture in her hair as she walks into the kitchen. Nate and CD return to their conversation.)
Nate Nytro: So, anyway, CD, I've called you here so we can discuss certain matters...
Creeping Death: ALL YOUR BASES ARE BELONG TO US?
Nate Nytro: Yes. You see, over the past few weeks since my belated return, I've been feeling slightly ambiguous over the nature of our relationship...
Creeping Death: OBESE CHILDHOOD STAR WARS FAN!
Nate Nytro: Look, if you could maybe not speak in internet memes for a moment...
Creeping Death: PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!
Nate Nytro: Yeah, I'll get you some syrup in a moment, just please let me say this...
Creeping Death: CRUISE KILLS OPRAH WITH LIGHTENENENING! BLADES WANK!
Nate Nytro: I love you!
(Shocked.) Creeping Death: GIANT ENEMY CRAB?
Nate Nytro: Yes, that's it, Giant Enemy Crab. That's exactly what I meant.
Creeping Death: Phew!
(Nate Nytro's face falls into despondancy as Creeping Death launches onto the table and starts shouting 'Peanut Butter Jelly Time' along with hand movements. As he does so, an amputee wheels his way past the shot. The fact he's wearing a well-polished medal, the only part of his person that demonstrates some care over its presentation, suggests that his legs were removed during some war effort. CD's face lights up upon seeing him whereas Nytro's turns to an expression of fear. CD falls off the table and moves towards the wheelchair-bound gentleman.)
Nate Nytro: Creeping, don't you dare!
(CD taps the gentleman on the shoulder.)
Veteran: Yes?
Creeping Death: Are you a vet? I'm a veteran, too.
Nate Nytro: Damn it!
Veteran: You? You don't look a day over thirty.
Creeping Death: Oh no, I've done my time. Beating the shit and ritually humiliating rookies.
Veteran: Rookies? I've never heard that name for the Vietnamese, but whatever you say.
Creeping Death: Trust me, I've seen my share of warfare. I've been subject to water torture, by those bastards.
Veteran: Awful times, wasn't it?
Nate Nytro: Don't listen to him. When he says 'water torture', he means that he had to shower with the developmental talent once.
Creeping Death: Shut your dirty mouth, Nate! (To the 'Veteran.') Anyway, why don't I get you a coffee and we can sit and talk about our times at service?
Veteran: Sure. I remember this one time in particular, damn awful it was, when I watched my sergeant die on Punji sticks.
Creeping Death: Yeah, something similar happened to Nate when he tripped onto the cocktail sausages in the catering room.
Veteran: Damn awful times.
Creeping Death: Tell me about it. He was like a pin-cushion if pins had pork attached to them.
Veteran: One of the worst was when Johnny Hopkins got loaded by licking some of those exotic mushrooms and decided to emulate that scene from Platoon where he screams 'I am death'--
Creeping Death: That's weird. So am I.
Veteran: And then fires wildly into a Vietnemese village with a chain gun.
Creeping Death: And, what happened?
Veteran: Well, the problem was that he decided to do this seven years after the war ended and instead ran naked into a church meeting for mourning parents who had outlived their children. It was made worse by the fact that he didn't actually have a chain gun, just a heavily scarred wanger.
Creeping Death: Damn, that sucks.
(The Veteran wipes a tear from his eye at the rememberance of his lost friend.)
Creeping Death: Ah, fuck this! You're fucking crying, you fucking emo pilit worm shitting bastard asshole! EPISODE OF SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! Fuckin' hell, Nate, let's leave and let the weak little 'vagina boy' alone.
Nate Nytro: Enjoying your coffee, CD?
Creeping Death: HAXX0RED!
Nate Nytro: Did I forget the cinnamon? So sorry.
Creeping Death: ARGH! Ri-DONK-ULOUS! LOL-E-POP! MONKEYS!
Nate Nytro: Indeed, I couldn't believe that the Dolphins beat the spread either.
(One of those hideous denzinens present to all coffee houses approaches the two, yes, that's right, a waitress.)
Waitress: Can I get you guys anything else?
Creeping Death: FAIRIES!
Waitress: Anything that isn't fictional, hun?
Creeping Death: IGUANA SCROTUMS!
Waitress: Yeah, I don't think we serve those, hun!
Nate Nytro: I apologize. My friend/bully suffers from a rare condition where he can only rattle off a list of cult internet phenomena. To this day, he hasn't said a single thing meaningful or implicit of a personality beyond tired cliches.
Waitress: That must be terrible.
Nate Nytro: It is.
Creeping Death: LONELYGIRL15! CAN'T SLEEP CLOWNS WILL EAT ME! WOFLCOPTER!
Waitress: WOFL? I heard waffles, I'll get you some waffles.
Nate Nytro: Thank you.
(The waitress strolls off to place the order, scratching the dried egg mixture in her hair as she walks into the kitchen. Nate and CD return to their conversation.)
Nate Nytro: So, anyway, CD, I've called you here so we can discuss certain matters...
Creeping Death: ALL YOUR BASES ARE BELONG TO US?
Nate Nytro: Yes. You see, over the past few weeks since my belated return, I've been feeling slightly ambiguous over the nature of our relationship...
Creeping Death: OBESE CHILDHOOD STAR WARS FAN!
Nate Nytro: Look, if you could maybe not speak in internet memes for a moment...
Creeping Death: PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!
Nate Nytro: Yeah, I'll get you some syrup in a moment, just please let me say this...
Creeping Death: CRUISE KILLS OPRAH WITH LIGHTENENENING! BLADES WANK!
Nate Nytro: I love you!
(Shocked.) Creeping Death: GIANT ENEMY CRAB?
Nate Nytro: Yes, that's it, Giant Enemy Crab. That's exactly what I meant.
Creeping Death: Phew!
(Nate Nytro's face falls into despondancy as Creeping Death launches onto the table and starts shouting 'Peanut Butter Jelly Time' along with hand movements. As he does so, an amputee wheels his way past the shot. The fact he's wearing a well-polished medal, the only part of his person that demonstrates some care over its presentation, suggests that his legs were removed during some war effort. CD's face lights up upon seeing him whereas Nytro's turns to an expression of fear. CD falls off the table and moves towards the wheelchair-bound gentleman.)
Nate Nytro: Creeping, don't you dare!
(CD taps the gentleman on the shoulder.)
Veteran: Yes?
Creeping Death: Are you a vet? I'm a veteran, too.
Nate Nytro: Damn it!
Veteran: You? You don't look a day over thirty.
Creeping Death: Oh no, I've done my time. Beating the shit and ritually humiliating rookies.
Veteran: Rookies? I've never heard that name for the Vietnamese, but whatever you say.
Creeping Death: Trust me, I've seen my share of warfare. I've been subject to water torture, by those bastards.
Veteran: Awful times, wasn't it?
Nate Nytro: Don't listen to him. When he says 'water torture', he means that he had to shower with the developmental talent once.
Creeping Death: Shut your dirty mouth, Nate! (To the 'Veteran.') Anyway, why don't I get you a coffee and we can sit and talk about our times at service?
Veteran: Sure. I remember this one time in particular, damn awful it was, when I watched my sergeant die on Punji sticks.
Creeping Death: Yeah, something similar happened to Nate when he tripped onto the cocktail sausages in the catering room.
Veteran: Damn awful times.
Creeping Death: Tell me about it. He was like a pin-cushion if pins had pork attached to them.
Veteran: One of the worst was when Johnny Hopkins got loaded by licking some of those exotic mushrooms and decided to emulate that scene from Platoon where he screams 'I am death'--
Creeping Death: That's weird. So am I.
Veteran: And then fires wildly into a Vietnemese village with a chain gun.
Creeping Death: And, what happened?
Veteran: Well, the problem was that he decided to do this seven years after the war ended and instead ran naked into a church meeting for mourning parents who had outlived their children. It was made worse by the fact that he didn't actually have a chain gun, just a heavily scarred wanger.
Creeping Death: Damn, that sucks.
(The Veteran wipes a tear from his eye at the rememberance of his lost friend.)
Creeping Death: Ah, fuck this! You're fucking crying, you fucking emo pilit worm shitting bastard asshole! EPISODE OF SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! Fuckin' hell, Nate, let's leave and let the weak little 'vagina boy' alone.
