Expecto Patronum a la Voldemort

“Dark Lord! We are in dire need of your assistance!”, Peter Pettigrew begs after bursting his way through the tall oak doors of Voldemort's personal chambers.

With a chilling calmness, Voldemort eyes his pitifully useless henchman who is now kneeling on all fours and dripping nasal fluids all over his specially polished Elv-wood floors. I will punish him later for this insolence, he thinks to himself. With a sigh of contempt, Voldemort addresses Pettigrew, “What, may I ask, is in such urgent need of my assistance. Oh, I know you are plenty useless, but what, may I also ask, is far beyond the reach of both Bellatrix, Greyback, and Lucius's capabilities that they would need to send a blundering idiot into my chambers to disturb my rest? Might I remind you to answer wisely, because my wand now itches to perform a Cruciatus spell on a certain dimwit.”

Pettigrew recoils in fear and now contemplates which of the two terrible fates out-weigh the other; Voldemort's wrath, or the impending doom waiting just outside the room. Just in time to break the tense silence, the other three death eaters (Bellatrix, Greyback, and Lucius) also stagger into the room. “Thank the darkness! You are awake!”

Voldemort rolls his eyes, “What is it?”

“Well, we were rounding up the Dementors for our next attack on Hogwarts, and for no reason that we can explain, they just… they just turned on us! There's just too many of them. Most of our death eaters are incapacitated now. No one was able to create a Patronus spell powerful enough to cast them away, which is why we need you master!” Bellatrix explains as she stares at Voldemort with a gleam of hope in her eyes.

Voldemort's eyes go wide, “Uhhh… You need a Patronus?… My Patronus? Lucius, are you sure your Patronus wasn't strong enough to control them? What is yours, a lion? That's nice and strong, you take care of it!”

“Your mightiness, my Patronus, although a lion, was not able to overcome them. Please, we need you to perform the spell!”, Lucius pleads.

Voldemort turns his back to the four of them, “I.. I don't feel like it right now. You see, I recently hurt my back… and… I have… I have… umm…. Plantar Fasciitis! Yes! That's it… My fascia is killing me.. and any good wizard knows you need a nice healthy fascia to perform… that… particular spell.”

The four of them glance back and fourth at each other, Bellatrix steps forward, “My lord, your modesty humbles us. We're all sure, even with your injured… fascia… your Patronus will be plenty powerful to take care of the matter!”

“Damnit! Are you all hard of hearing!?” Voldemort says while stomping his feet, “What don't the four of you idiots understand?! I don't want to do a Patronus! I won't do a Patronus! I don't care what my Patronus implies!” he freezes.

“Implies? What are you talking about Lord?” Lucius asks.

“Well, you know… It's… You see… the thing is…Uhh.. Webster's dictionary defines the word 'pha..' ”

Voldemort is cut off as the room suddenly plunges into a suffocating darkness. The temperature also plummets as nearly a dozen Dementors suddenly burst into the room. The four death eaters scream in terror as the death kiss is given to the each of them, one by one. Bellatrix let's out a plea, “Dark Lord! A Patronus!”

Under normal circumstances, Voldemort would just allow the four of them to be taken by the life ending kiss of death; however, even the dark lord himself, with the little soul he had in his body, could not withstand the terrible destruction of the Dementor's kiss. He had no choice. It had to be done.


From the tip of his Phoenix feathered wand, a spectacular silver light emerges and begins to take form. The Patronus, complete and full bodied, makes it's way around the room and dissipates each of the Dementor's dark effects. Although an emotionless entity, each Dementor is expelled from the room as if it were writhing in great pain. The Patronus is really just as powerful as predicted… aside from its rather “unusual” form.

The four of them ignore the blood that has begun to spill from each of their eyes and ears, all they could do is stare quizzically at their master.

Voldemort hesitantly stares back but states firmly, “Any smart remark from any of you and you'll all wish it was your last.”

“Oh, no. Noooo… We are just in awe of your performance, and the… form that your Patronus took… Nothing odd at all about… thaaat. What was it again? A Basilisk snake?” Lucius says trying to relieve the awkward tension.

Greyback chimes in, “No you moron! That was no snake! Not from the great Voldemort! That was clearly a dragon! A great… wingless… one eyed….. veiny…. dragon. A glorious dragon!”

“SILENCE!” Voldemort erupts, “It was no damn snake! It wasn't a freaking wingless dragon! You know what it is! I know what it is! We all know what it is! So I'll just say it!….. It's a giant flying penis! Okay?! Happy now?! My patronus spell takes on the form of a GIANT FLYING PENIS!”

“Not that there's anything wrong with it…” Bellatrix adds in, “Perhaps it took that form because you are so passionate about the battle with Dumbledore and…”

“Oh shut up! It's been that way since I was 15 years old and called Tom Riddle! So what?! It doesn't mean anything!”

“Of course it doesn't mean anything! I mean… Like mine for example… It's a panther… What does that mean? So what if all of my victims called me the “dark panther”?… or the fact that I have a panther tattoo on my lower hip….. or that for a partial time in my childhood… I was raised by panthers… it means nothing!” Beatrix says as the others nod their heads in agreement, “Perhaps it's the choice of 'happy thoughts' you think of to conjure up the spell.”

Lucius throws his hands in the air, “Of course! That must be it! Just a miscommunication from your thoughts to the wand! What is it that you think of master? Maybe we can help tweak it!”

“IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS! Uh, I mean,” Voldemort retracts, “Not that I have anything to hide. I think of… umm.. Harry Potter's mother! Yes! Her and her… sweet…. motherly…. umm… Vaginal things”

Greyback nods his head and replies, “Oh, totally! Who hasn't thought of Mrs. Potter's…. Vaginal things. Well, it must be a malfunction in your wand then. But don't you worry master! We will find you a new one! The Elder Wand! Yes! The most powerful wand on earth!”, Greyback looks back at the other three and whispers to them, “Not to mention that it's also 'ribbed' for his pleasure”. The four of the death eaters immediately press their lips together to suppress their laughter.

“I HEARD THAT!”, Voldemort booms, “That's it! Out! All of you out! And next time this happens! I'll leave you all to deal with the Dementors yourselves!” The four of them race out of his chambers and shut the doors behind them.

Finally alone, Voldemort makes his way across the room to his secret cupboard. “Alohomora”, Voldemort says as the locked cupboard door swings open and unveils the large nude oil painting that he had made with his very own hands. “I think of you…… Harry Potter.”, he says to the painting in a low whisper….. and begins to fondle himself.



Hermione rushes over to Harry, “Are you okay Harry?”

“Ya, it's just my damn scar, it's hurting again. It must be Voldemort, he's up to something. I can feel it.”




Bringing Back the “Mama” Jokes: Mama Jokes 2.0

What was not to like about making fun of someone's mother? It was the great equalizer. You can be arguing with anyone, anytime, in any prominent position of authority, and a simple mother joke can cut into their heart like Katniss (an arrow to the heart while participating in the Hunger Games). Of course, the way of the mother joke has dwindled. All the good ones make references to products and characters that are obsolete (i.e. skittles, scratch and sniff stickers, cordless telephones, etc.). Here are some new and relevant mother jokes I have created for your perusal and later use:


1) Your mother's so fat, she inspired Apple to invent the “panoramic” camera mode for the iPhone 5.

2) Your mother smells so bad, when she was blind folded and asked what a room sprayed with 'Febreeze' smelled like, she answered, “the moisture in my fat folds”. When the room was re-sprayed and had other volunteers smell the room, they all answered, “the lingering odour of your mother's fat folds.”

3) Your mother is so fat, she'd personally volunteer herself for the Hunger Games just so she can have an excuse to eat an island full of children.

4) Your Mother's so fat, she has to stop by 2 places for dessert. First: Wendy's for a “Baconator” Second: Cold Stone Creamery, so they can fold a Baconator into an order of vanilla ice cream… on a waffle cone.

5) Your mother's teeth are so disheveled, she looks like Bane from 'the Dark Knight Rises'… (I know what you're thinking, “with the mask?”, no, without the mask, because his face was mangled in prison).

6) There are only two sounds that make a wizard shudder in disgust, the pronunciation of the name “Voldemort”, and the sound of your mother eating a Double Down from KFC.

Okay, that's all I got…. For now… Feel free to write your own in the comment box!


The Magic School Bus

It's another day at Blair Wood Elementary and there's a nervous vibe in the air; partially because mid-term report cards are just around the corner, but mainly, because the students are afraid of going on another field trip that will likely kill them all.

“It's 5 minutes after 9, maybe she's sick today?” Phoebe points out the time to Gregory in hope that she's right, “She's never late, and right now, she's definitely late.”

“Or AM I?”

Startled, the entire class jumps in their seats when they see Ms. Frizzle standing right behind them, as if she were there the entire time. “Good morning Ms. Frizzle,” the class greets her through the teeth of their forced smiles.

“I hope everyone enjoyed yesterdays trip to the Jurassic period!”, she looks at Molly, “What was your favorite part of the trip?”

The question prompts Molly to have a nervous flash back of the day's terrifying events. She tries to contain her shaking as memories of screaming, running, and scrambling for their lives race through her head. Tyrannosaurus to her left, Velocy Raptor to her right, they were running, always running… and of course, what happened to Carlos… oh the humanity…. “CARLOOOOOS!!!”

Molly begins to weep into her hands.

“Oh Molly, it sounds like you didn't quite enjoy yourself. And I believe we all agreed to NEVER mention Carlos ever again. You're not being a debby-downer are you? You know how I feel about debby-downers.” Ms. Frizzle says with a piercing look in her eye.

Molly immediately wipes her tears and throws a smile back on her face, “oh no no Ms. Frizzle! These are tears of…. Tears of joy! Ha ha.” If the students learned anything this year, it was to NOT upset Ms. Frizzle, and nothing upsets Ms. Frizzle more than a lack of enthusiasm.

“Then tell me Molly, if you really had that much fun, what was your favorite part?”

Molly pauses for a moment, “Uhhh…. The screaming?”

Ms. Frizzle glares at Molly in silence for an entire minute, then nods her head in approval, “Very good.” The class exhales in relief.

A smile returns to Ms. Frizzles face, “Now class, we've seen dinosaurs, tornadoes, shrunk ourselves as prey to insect wildlife; the list goes on. But there is one place we haven't yet gone, and if anyone guesses correctly, we might just be in for a treat! I'll give you all a hint, it's the opposite of 'Inner Space' ”

Ralph raises his hand, “Outer Space?”

Ms. Frizzles clasps her hands together, “You're right!”

The entire class glares angrily at Ralph. Mumbles of whispered “shut the fuck up Ralph” echoes through the room. Ralph apologetically shrinks into his seat, but it's too late. Ms. Frizzle has already begun to mumble dark verses of old latin. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and the room begins to go dark as she ceremoniously uses her magic to summon the School Bus.

The entire class trembles in there seats, but this time, Gregory stands up. “No! Nuh uh! Nope! Not gonna happen. I'm not going into space!”

Ms. Frizzle stops her chanting and gives her attention to Gregory, “Now now Gregory, where did our enthusiasm for science go?”

“Okay bitch, first of all, I'm going to say it! It has to be said,” Gregory ignores the fearful looks given from his classmates, “My 'ENTHUSIASM' for science died when I found out that magic exists! Freakin magic! Who cares how the hell 'the water cycle' works if I know a freakin MAGICAL SCHOOL BUS exists! Why aren’t we trying to learn more about the bus?!”

“Oh Gregory, I suggest you..”

“Not done yet bitch!” Gregory cuts her off, “And it's clear to me that you've known and used this magic for quite some time. So when, may I ask, were you going to try and use it to better the world?! Which brings me to my next question! Time Travel obviously exists because I was almost eaten twice by a freakin dinosaur! Why don't we go back in time and give someone the cure for small pox before the outbreak? Why don't we go back and throw some cold water on Hitler's parents before they decide to have sex?!”

Gregory takes a breath… and continues, “And what ever happened to the 'permission note'? It's school policy to get permission from the parents for field trips, ESPECIALLY when the field trip is some crazy ass death adventure! You think Carlos's parents would have signed a permission slip for him to get his di..”

Ralph interrupts, “We're not suppose to talk about what happened to Carl…”

“Shut the fuck up Ralph!”

Throughout Gregory's entire rant, Ms. Frizzle stands in place with an eerie demeanor, that is, until she points her finger at Ralph and yells, “FACTUS PECUS DE FRIGIDUS SANGUIS!”

The transformation was almost instant, and if you weren't paying attention, you'd think he disappeared. But he was there. On the floor. As a lizard.

Ms. Frizzle walks over and picks Gregory up from the floor, “I shall call you…. Liz!”



Robin Rises

“I have taught you everything I know and have left you with the skill to learn everything I don't. Today is your day, and, the demise of many who do not share our common view of justice.”

Dick Grayson stands before Bruce Wayne as the subtle sound of fluttering wings fill the dark cave in a ceremonious melody. “Today, I deem you worthy. Worthy to fight along my side as we, a team, strike fear into the hearts of the most heinous, the most cruel and vile, the most dangerous criminals in Gotham City. Today… You become a man.”

“But Mr. Wayne, I am only 8 years old. Even the jewish wait 'till… ”

“8 years old when you are merely Dick Grayson; A man when you dawn your cape and cowl to fight in the name of justice!”

Dick's eyes brighten with excitement, “No way! You got me a costume!?”

“I sure did,” Bruce produces a stern look on his face, “Just as my cape and cowl conceal my identity and strike fear into the hearts of criminals, yours shall serve the same purpose. Stealth, concealment, fear, justice… Behold!” Bruce tears away the satin sheet unveiling the bright orange, forest greens, and neon yellows of Dick's new fatigues.

Dick is momentarily stunned by what he sees, “It's… It's very bright.”

“What is it Dick? You don't like it?”

“No. Nooo… It's just that,” he thinks carefully of what to say, “It's not that I don't like it… It's just that you've always taught me to stay out of sight, fight in the shadows, and then surprise the enemy when they least expect it. I just don't see how I would be able to remain as stealthy…”

Bruce cuts him off, “And surprised they shall be! Just put yourself in the enemy's shoes. Imagine your yellow cape fluttering in the wind as your smooth bare legs pound the ground towards them. They won't be able to take their sights off you.”

“Well, it's hard to put myself in someone else's shoes if I'm wearing those… elf shoes.”

“Ha! Fantastic aren't they?!”

Dick inspects the shoes further and decides not to mention the small strands of yarn hanging from the tips of each shoe- likely where bells had originally been stitched onto. Then again, judging by the consistency of the costume, Dick is surprised Wayne didn't leave the bells on.

Dick has a small revelation, “This costume is almost like, you want me to be a target… Wait, am I suppose to be your diversion?!”

“And a fine diversion you'll be! But with all eyes on you, don't forget the most important rule: Conceal your identity. Here.” Bruce hands Dick a thin green bandana.

“But… This won't conceal my identity at all! And you said! You said that if the villains were to find my identity, everyone I know will be endangered!”

Bruce shakes his head and laughs, “Haha! Don't be silly! Everyone you know is dead! Remember the trapeze incident?”

“….Yes I remember…”

“Good! Now onto the next matter of importance! Your name!”

A momentary look of excitement returns to Dick's face. Bruce proceeds, “I recall the first day I found this cave; the fear. Oh, the exhilaration of fear I felt as that demon rodent flew towards me. Ears pointed, wings flapping, teeth glistening with infectious disease; I knew I wanted all those I hated to feel the same fear in which that bat inspired in myself. Henceforth, I am Batman. You Dick, you shall also be named after a winged beast. A flying dynamo of truth and fury. You shall be named, ROBIN!”

“…like Robin Hood?”

“No. The bird.”


“You shall rewrite the history of the Graysons and fly! Fly with glory!.. You know, because the Grayson's don't fly very well. Remember Dick? Remember the trapeze accident?”

“… Yes… I remember…”

“Splendid! Now, your first mission,” The serious look returns onto Bruce's face, “Bane.”

Robin's jaw momentarily drops, “Ya. I guess together, we'll get him.”

“Oh no no. I won't be coming with you. My back still isn't ready for that kind of rematch. But I have faith in you! Just remember to be careful, the last time I fought Bane… Well…. He broke my back. So, keep your guard up because he's REALLY good at breaking backs! I mean, he just picked me up and snapped me like a twig. So in summary, he's really good at breaking backs, and you… well… you're only 8 years old.”

“But you said I was a man today…”

“Okay! Off you go! Here, take the bat vespa! Good luck!”


“I have taught you everything I know and have left you with the skill to learn everything I don't. Today is your day, and, the demise of many who do not share our common view of justice.”

Tim Drake stands before Bruce Wayne as the subtle sound of fluttering wings fill the dark cave in a ceremonious melody. “Today, I deem you worthy..”


10 Signs that show you have too much “All You Can Eat Sushi”

All-You-Can-Eat-Sushi is not a meal, it's a privilege. It's that guilty pleasure we all like to do, and we do it knowing we have the entire Pacific Ocean separating us from a few thousand japanese sushi chefs that would murder us all if they knew we were committing these atrocities. Sushi is a delicacy, it’s meant to be eaten and savoured in small morsels, but North America “DON'T DO MORSELS”. Morsels get dun' don't do done… did.. Silence! You think this is a game!? This ain't a game son! It's easy, so easy for this to all get out of hand. One night, you're saying to yourself, “what?! A pizza AND sushi in one?! that sounds fun!”… and next thing you know, your wife's left you, you're wanted by the FBI for copyright infringement, and you're diagnosed with shingles. I don't know how that all came from over doing all-you-can-eat-sushi, but don't let it be you! Read these tell-tale signs to know if you eat too much AYCES!

1) You resist ordering Miso Soup and/or Salad because you know that'll just take up precious space in your stomach.

2) When the waiter comes, you don't order “just a little now” in hopes that you can “conveniently” order something later. You spend AT LEAST 10 minutes of his time ordering everything you want and everything you THINK you'll want because you know you'll never see him again for the rest of the night… Unless he brings you food that belongs to another table.

3) If the waiter accidentally brings you food that belongs to another table, you eat from the plate as quickly as possible. You know you have a small window of opportunity before the waiter realizes his mistake and takes the plate away. Therefore, you get to sample someone else's food without committing to the entire plate.

4) When the bill comes, you're the one that tells everyone not to leave a tip because you KNOW that the gratuity is already included in the bill. Then some a-hole will for sure double check and say “i don't see where they added the tip..” Without even glancing at the bill, you lean back and say “look under the HST… the initials SC stands for service charge.”

5) You know ordering fish in the form of Hand-rolls and maki is the equivalent to flushing your money away. Why fill up on all that rice? You are conditioned to go for it's pure source…. Sashimi.

6) You start ordering from the “cooked” menu. You've long passed the time where you only order hoards of raw fish to get your money's worth. You're sick of sushi now… It's time to explore what else Japan has to offer.

7) You don't save room for “dessert” because you know dessert is just a dismal selection of freezer burned green tea, vanilla, or strawberry ice cream. You might be enticed by a “pudding” option, but you've been burned enough times with artificial jello mix to know to ask the waiter if the “pudding” is made with real fruit and carnation milk.

8) If you want to order more food, you throw all “restaurant etiquette” for calling a waiter out the window. You raise your hand, call out loud, and possibly snap your fingers. Rookies don't understand that AYCES waiters are professionals at avoiding eye contact.

9) If the food looks off color, you eat it anyways. Health and safety regulations don't exist here. Your standard for “off colour” is much more tolerant than someone who is use to ordering A-La-Carte. Besides, you eat it so often, your stomach has already developed a natural immunity to almost all bacteria colonies found in bad fish.

10) When your table has hit their limit and can't finish all the food on the table, you know all the best places to hide the food so that you won't be charged for the leftovers.

-Under the wax paper of the wicker basket if you ordered tempura.

-In the tea pot.

-chewing up left overs into a paste and spitting it into balled up tissue paper.

– Stack the plates in an attempt to “tidy” the “empty” plates but really just smooshing the food flat with each plate on top of the other.

-eating just the fish on the sushi and then scattering the left over rice here and there to give it the appearance you're just a messy eater.

-stuffing your cheeks with what you can and make repeated trips to the washroom (this is more of a desperation move, and is not as common).


Captain Planet

Off the coast of a small land mass in the Antarctic, a fleet of oil tankers prepare to unload a few tons of unusable crude oil into the water. Along the fact that the general area is completely out of satellite visibility, the ships themselves are unmarked, thus, making the environmental attrocity about to happen completely untraceable. The crew moves casually with the belief that their actions will never be tied to the company or themselves- little do they know, just a few yards away, a team of earth's best do-gooders are observing and waiting for their attack; the Planeteers.

As Wheeler's ring carefully emits a slow amber glow to provide warmth for the rest of the group, he observes the tankers across the icy water through a pair of binoculars. “Looks like we're going to have to call on Captain Planet for this job,” he says, noting the fact that most of the crew members on the ship are armed with automatic rifles.

The five of them thrust their fists into the air and simultaneously call out their elements; Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Heart. Streams of light shoot into the air and intersect hundreds of meters in the sky, forming a brilliant assortment of colors. His form begins to take shape, and with a final eruption of white light, Captain Planet is summoned.

“From the power of all the elements combined, I AM CAPTAIN PLANET! I'm about to get REAL on these n*ggas!”

“Wait… what did he just say?” Kwame looks back at the other Planeteers.

Without wasting any time, Captain Planet immediately sets his attack on the lead the tanker as he sends waves of icy water crashing into it's side. Most of the crew is washed overboard except for one who immediatley begins to spray bullets wildly into the air. Captain Planet dodges them with ease, “N*gga please! You're wasting your time!”

“Okay… I'm sure he said the N-word this time. I should say something.”

As Captain Planet dodges the lone survivor's bullets, he is caught unaware of the second tanker sneaking up behind him. With guns cocked and ready, the crew men take aim. Almost too late, Captain America takes notice of the ambush transpiring behind him and yells to Kwame, “Yo Brotha! I need the power of Earth to make some tremors! Shake'em up n*gga! Shake’em up!”

“Brotha?”, Kwame pauses, “O..Okay Cap'… But before I do, I just wanted to say tha……”

“NOW KWAME!” Captain screams.

Kwame immediately lifts up his ring and begins to shake the ice surrounding the other tankers. Before any of the crew men can fire off a shot at him, the ships capsize into the water while safely containing it's deadly contents within the hauls.

Captain Planet joins the other planeteers. “Good shooting ma' brotha”, he says while holding his fist towards Kwame. Kwame reluctantly touches his fist to the Captain's.

“So, you had something you wanted to say, you can tell me anything! Go ahead ma' chocolately nig…”

“YOU CAN'T SAY THAT WORD! Or talk like that! You're not black!”

Captain Planet is taken aback, “Well, I am sorry you feel that way! But, I AM CAPTAIN PLANET! Forged by the five elements! One of them being Earth! An element from Mother Africa! So, you see Kwame, I am just as black as you.”

“Well, no, you're not. Your skin is more like a dull greyish blue. And your hair is green… And permed… I'm actually not sure what you are exac…”

“I have no time to argue! I must round up the rest of these crewmen before they drown. Gi, I need your help, I can see that most of these men are Japanese. I need you to tell them that they will not be harmed and that…”

“I'm not Japanese.”


Gi clears her throat, “I'm Chinese.”

“Oh, okay, I see what's going on here. You're all taking me for a little ride aren't you?! Trying to pull a fast one on old Cap'y P! I suppose the next thing you're gonna tell me is that Linka and Wheeler aren't white! And that Ma-Ti isn't Mexican!”

Ma-Ti interrupts his rant, “I'm not Mexican… I'm Indian.”

Captain Planet immediatley keels over and throws up a pool of green vomit on the floor. His body begins to shrink and dissipate into the air.

“What's happening?!”

“The negative energy from his racist thoughts and actions are taking away his powers! He's falling apart!”, Wheeler explains to the rest of the group.

“I'm Captain Planet! You can't even understand on my level… you… honkee… little…” Before he could finish another one of his rants, he disappears.

“I know were suppose to care for the environment and love every person on Earth regardless of the colour of their skin… But… Fuck Blue People!” The rest of the Planeteers nod their heads in agreement.



Tonight, we dine in hell!

I'm always perplexed by the show “Hell's Kitchen”. As far as reality-shows go, I think it's quite entertaining, but what confuses me is the restaurant “Hell's Kitchen” within the show itself. Before the dinner service, you get footage of lambourghinis, limosines, and other expensive vehicles pulling up to the restaurant's valet. EVERY dinner service is a full house comprised of customers that look quite rich and well-off– basically, people with the means to eat wherever the hell they want. WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO THEY CONTINUE TO EAT THERE?! Do they not understand what this show is about? 9 years it's been on television and it's no secret what these patrons are to expect for their dining experience.
Near the outskirts of La Brea Avenue- one of the more sheik and classy dwellings of Los Angeles- Lester Cummings and his wife Mandy Cummings decide where they wish to dine for the night. Being co-marital owners of the city's most successful Pool and Hot Tub retail outlet “Wet Cummings”, money and reservation times are no object or hinderance to them at all. The city's culinary offerings are their oyster.

Mandy: Lester dear, what ever shall we eat for dinner tonight? I'm famished.

Lester: Well, I've been really craving a Beef Wellington.

Mandy: Oh! Why don't we dine at The Royce, I hear their chef is renowned!

Lester: No. I don't want my food cooked by a chef.

Mandy: … oh, well who would you like it cooked by then?

Lester: I want my food cooked by an ex-convict or preferably a crack addicted single teen mother. The key is that they have no culinary experience at all.

Mandy: Oh, does someone like that cook a beef wellington particularly well?

Lester: No, the idea is that we wait for about an hour before our order finally arrives, and then, we'll see it is so poorly cooked that we'll have to send it back.

Mandy: Okay. So, we're looking for somewhere with good service then?

Lester: No. When I send my order back and complain about the wellington, I want to be yelled at by the owner… REALLY yelled at… Humiliated even.. Preferably by someone with a crass english accent who's not afraid to swear around children.

Mandy: Decor important to you?

Lester: I'm glad you asked. I want the front of the restaurant to feel inviting. I'm thinking; ominous red glowing lights. Oh, and I want bursts of flames that spontaneously combust right at the door's entrance, thus, making the door both the fire exit and fire hazard at the same time.

There is a moment of silence between the two before they're both struck by the same idea. They look into each other's eyes and simultaneously yell in a fit of joy:

Mandy/Lester: HELL'S KITCHEN!


To Love and Loathe: Part 1

PREMISE: So here's the idea; I take a picture from a random image generator that pulls it's source from instagram, twitter, tumblr, etc. I take one that stands out, and then, I get to work. Like the title suggests, I will proceed to switch between viciously insulting the picture to giving it a sincere and loving compliment. Do not take offense, this is an exercise in EXTREMES. Note: Upon loading each new segment, it will be open to a CONTEST in the comments section (See 'ABOUT' section for contest rules). Okay, enough talk… Let's do this.

Love: I am very impressed by your jaw line. You remind me of a young Reese Witherspoon.

Loathe: This picture shares more similarities to the movie 'Terminator' than you think. In Terminator, an assassin cyborg goes back in time to eliminate a young boy who would have grown to become a great General. In reality, if time travel existed, your mother would probably travel back in time to have an abortion.

Love: Your sunglasses are completely opaque, if I played against you in poker, I would not be able to read your facial features AT ALL, unless you clench your jaw.

Loathe: They say to never hit a man with glasses, but judging by all the finger prints on your lenses, I'm assuming your abusive boyfriend couldn't help himself.

Love: I admire a man who doesn't give into social norms like 'smiling for the camera'. You seem like a man who has much to smile about.


*CONTEST: Today is December 12, 2012. Leave in the comments box your own love or loathe comment! The contest will be open for a week, and at the end, I will choose my favourite comment. Reminder, it is a lot easier to Love than to Loathe… Be original (but also, try and match my taste 😉 ).
PRIZE: The winner will receive my own copy of “50 Shades of Grey” where within the pages, I will have it signed with my very first blog doodles AND a personal dirty limerick dedicated to YOU. I will also have a page created to the winners of my contests, and your name will be immortalized FOREVER.


“You were warned. You watched the video. You will die.” – In the darkness, Roland sits in the solace of his living room as the words resonate through his mind. It has been a week since he decided to watch the video; 6 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes since he received the call. He tries to tell himself that it was only a stupid urban legend that just happened to be popularized by a movie; a movie for heaven's sake! But telling himself that wasn't enough to shake the unmistakable feeling that something dire was about to happen; a curse that had loomed over him for days now.

The last three seconds ticked away on his watch, and then it came. The sudden appearance of static on the television would normally have startled him if he hadn't already expected it. A flash of static, a ring of light, and there she was. Time was up…


“Sweet heart, could you please point to the man that attacked you? Don't be afraid.”

She slowly nods her head at the Judge and lifts her finger towards the accused; Roland. A gasp of disapproval fills the courtroom.

With a disheartened sob, she quietly whispers, “I don't know why he attacked me like that. I did nothing to the man.”

“Oh! Oh hell no! That's how it went down to you?! That's how you see it?!” Roland couldn't restrain his outburst.

“Mr. Daines! You have been warned already! One more outburst and I will have just cause to hold you in contempt! But personally, I hope you do, just so I have more reason to throw a dirt bag like you in jail!” With a strike of his gavel, he looks back toward the young girl and urges her on, “So after he struck you in the face and kicked your ribs while you were down on the floor, you mentioned that he repeatedly asked you a question? What was that question?”

“Yes sir, he…” her lip begins to tremble, “he asked me how… how I…”

“You can do it, tell us sweet heart.”

“He asked me 'how I like them apples' ”

Another gasp of disapproval fills the courtroom. Roland shoots up from his seat again, “I was in danger! I said that in the heat of the moment! I don't even know what that means! I saw it in a movie damn it!”

“Mr. Daines, seeing that you are incapable of following orders or maintaining the simple conduct of being a decent human being, you might as well take the stand and tell us yourself why you deserve to be put away.”

Roland quickly takes the seat next to the judge and faces the courtroom pleading, “I don't even know why I have to explain myself again, but like I said, my television turned on by itself, and that little girl came out of the box and attacked me!” he reiterates with urgency, “SHE CAME OUT OF THE FREAKIN TV!”

A shout comes from the back of the audience, “So what!? I once saw a man cut a woman in half!”

Another shout, “You tell him Miguel!”

“Damn straight! And then he put her back together!”

“Tell em' who it was Miguel!”

“Criss Angel son! That ma'facka cray!” At that, the courtroom erupts in wild applause.

It takes at least 7 strikes of the gavel for the Judge to regain order again, “You were saying, she attacked you? Tell us Mr. Daines, how did this young lady attack you?”

Roland hesitates for a second, “Well, she didn't so much attack me as she walked… she walked slowly towards me.”

“She walked towards you, and that prompted you to punch her in the face?”

“Well it sounds bad if you put it that way! But look at her! She has long black hair! It was covering most of her face! And…” he hesitates, “well, she's Japanese.”

Another gasp of disapproval is then followed by Miguel's booming voice over the room, “Aww hells no! That's racist! This a straight up cracka ass cracka!”

“Tell 'em Miguel! Tell it like it is!”

“We didn't land on Plymouth rock! Plymouth rock landed on us!” And at that, another eruption of wild applause overtakes the room.

This time, the Judge allows the frenzy to continue until it naturally dissipates on it's own.

“Mr. Roland Daines, the overwhelming evidence against you finds you guilty of 3 charges of assault. On behalf of the State of Texas, I sentence you to death!”

Nothing about the past 2 weeks seemed real to Roland, yet it was happening. Two guards escorts him by each arm out of the courtroom. As they approach the door, the guards tighten their grip as both the little girl and Roland squeezes through the exit. As Roland comes within ear shot, she says to him, “I told you. I told you that you'd die!” She giggles to herself.

“For the love of… Did anyone hear that!?”



Judge: Actually. Ya, I heard that (the judge is standing right behind the two).

Miguel: I heard that too! (he shouts from across the room)

Little Girl: Uhhh… You all heard that?

Miguel: Bitch, you yelled that shit out loud.


The cost of his heroics had begun to take a toll on him as he noticed the pain in his knees starting to seep deep into his bones like a cold sharp knife. Miles of rough terrain added to the pain, but he knew, he knew with every instinct in his mind that every second he gave into rest, she would slip further from his grasp, from his saving. There was no time to slow down, no time to get lazy. He will run and continue to run. As much as it hurt, he'd also jump, and jump with perfect form- less he give opportunity to those damn demons of the abyss to kill and end his pursuit. Fist in the air, left leg extended forward, back foot pointed to the ground; perfect form.

“I'm coming sweetie, hang in there… I'm coming” he whispers to himself as he musters every ounce of strength to propel himself forward across the field.


Slamming both feet into the grass, he grinds himself to a halt. It was only a matter of time before he'd see them. Creatures of the abyss, death incarnate, henchmen of pure evil…. Fucking turtles.

“Let's do this.”

Before they even knew he was there, he was in the air, and like a thousand times before, his trajectory would make his landing pad their demise. Under his feet, their shells crush as the soft bodies inside flatten into a nothingness. Again and again, he launches himself into the air and down again. They are everywhere.

A wave of primal release takes him over as he finishes off the last one screaming into the air, “AAAAARRGH!”

“What the fuck! Honey! Honey! Get the kids! This guy's lost it!”

Screams of panic erupt as families across the park frantically try and gather their belongings. Mario shakes his head from his murderous daze and observes the chaos around him. He catches the arm of a mother running past, “No need to panic! I have everything under control!”

She stares at him with fearful eyes and trembles quietly, “You, you just killed that entire family of turtles!”

“Ya! Damn straight! You're welcome!”

“You crushed them… In cold blood”

“Mame, I understand you are afraid. They would have killed us all! But don't you worry, I'm a plumber!”

“I… I don't know what that's suppose to mean!”

“They would have killed you! Killed all of you! Don't you see!? They're his henchmen! KOOPA! KOOPA's henchmen! He has the princess!”

The woman's husband grabs his wife's arm, “You leave her alone! I've called the police! They'll be here any second now!”

Mario nods with excitement, “Yes! Call the police! We need back up! This whole park is infested with those damn….HeeeeeAAAaaaaah!” – the word he was going for was “henchmen” before 30,000 volts of electricity surges through his body. The policeman behind grabs him by his red cap, slams him to the ground and proceeds to search his pockets.

“Wadda' we got here Sanchez?”

Officer Sanchez takes the clear ziploc bag from Mario's pants and holds it into the air for his partner to see, “Looks like this freak is juiced up on shrooms and… these star-shaped things.” He further examines it, “Yup, it's acid.”