And It Came To Pass…

That Solomon was epic.

And God said “dude. What do you want?” And Solomon didn’t ask for money, clothes or hoes. He asked for common sense. And Premium Common Sense™ was granted to him. And two women came to argue over whose child it was. But Solomon had seen this episode of Desperate Housewives before, so he solved that shit with ease.

And Solomon married like 300 hunned hoes. And Fela was like “damn”. And it was nothing. Cos Solomon wasn’t satisfied with having a different box every day cos that leaves out 65 days. So Solomon had like 700 more concubines. And the Bible doesn’t tell us if they were all female, but I’m not saying anything.

And Solomon was a thrill nigga. Cos Solomon didn’t forget any of their anniversary dates. And Solomon prolly called all his hoes by name. Cos he was wise. And Solomon tried everything ma nigga. All kinds of alcohol, weed, had like 3 orgies daily, prolly wrote the Karma Sutra book, and Solomon was tired of being so real and declared it all vanity and decided to be a poet.

And Solomon wrote love poems on some R Kelly shit, and died.

And it came to pass…

That David had 3 mighty men. Even though we’re only gonna talk about two. And these niggas made Leonidas and his band of 300 merry men look like runway models. And these niggas. And they were called Josheb-Basshebeth, Eleazar, and Shammah.

And Josheb-Basshebeth (we’re just gonna call him Josheb yeah? Cool) was the head of the 3. And this nigga killed 800 people in one day. Meaning he probably woke up at 6am, brushed his teeth, freshened up for war and looked daper as fuck, swagged all the way out to the battle field around 8:30am, probably, and started whooping niggas asses. He also had to sleep, cos real niggas don’t play with they sleep. Meaning he prolly went back to his pimped out tent at about 8:30pm. So 800 people in 12 hours. That’s like 66 people every hour. That’s 1 person every minute.

And this nigga didn’t even take a water break man, this nigga was turnt. Shaun T better watch out.

And then there was Eleazar. When he Dude was online one night when the Philistines were slandering them. Then the philistines attacked and all the punk ass niggas retreated. But not ma nigga Zar. Zar stood alone and was slaying bitch niggas left, right & center like it was nothing. Then the Isrealites joined him but all that was left to do was cleanup.

Cleanup. Shit.

And so it came to pass…

That Joseph could read minds yo.

Okay, no. He couldn’t. But that nigga could dream on some Martin Luther King shit. And he told his brothers that he was gon’ be the greatest and they hated him cos he was too real for them. And they sold their own flesh and blood to the Egyptians dawg the men in the old testament had no regard for their brothers since Cain and Abel.

And Joseph legit went into slavery but somehow found himself in Potiphar’s house. And Joseph was so fresh and so clean with his white linen on that Potiphar’s wife’s pussy had a seizure when she saw him. Shit was mad real man. Joseph used to walk by and she would get so wet she would swim back to her room.

And one day she couldn’t take it anymore, so she called Joey Fresh to her room and she offered Joe the box. And Joe legit turned it down like a popped collar ma nigga.

For this reason alone, Joseph the thrillest nigga to ever walk in Egypt. And God looked down and was like “That’s my boy” and God made him Prime Minister.

And Potiphar’s wife had to buy a dildo.

And so it came to pass…

That Samson was so strong he grew his dada by pulling hair out of his head and was such a badass that he killed niggas with the jaw of an ass. I didn’t even know butt cheeks had jaws man this nigga was too real. And the Philistenes were all like “whoa”.

And the Philistines got together and decided the only way to bring him down was to send a lightskinned hoe his way. So they sent Delilah and Delilah got Samson’s number on Facebook and sent Samson some nudes on Whatsapp.

And Samson flew over to Delilah’s crib for the weekend.

And Samson definitely wasn’t hitting it right. Cos if he was, Delilah wouldn’t have had the strength to ask him stupid questions like “what is the secret of your strength?” after sex. Cos she would be passed the fuck out from all that good dick.

And it came to pass that Samson told her the secret to his strength like a punk ass bitch lil nigga cos we all know we don’t trust these hoes. And Delilah sold him out to the Philistines. And the world’s most famous haircut happened and Samson died.

Punk.

And Delilah retired as a professional loud mouth, hair styling hoe and decided to go ‘inspire’ / seduce the members of the Plain White Tees.

And it came to pass…

The End

Good evening.

Mortals.

(Really, wouldn’t you guys feel bad if I didn’t greet you accordingly?)

Anywhoo, as you may have noticed, I have finished Le 30 Days Blog Challenge shit and for those people who were viewing a half empty cup and telling me I couldn’t do it, I have just one thing to say to you my beauties;

FUCK YOU IN THE EAR!

No homo.

Now that I’m done, I can join the league of extraordinary badasses like Wana who have successfully finished theirs and look down with disdain at the ones who haven’t.

*Moonwalks all over Coco and uses her to wipe her blog*

I’m still waiting for Tula to do his own oh.

Anyway, I’m not here to loathe (moonwalks over Coco some more) or talk about how easy it was to finish this (moonwalks over Coco a little more)….

Mind me not…let me get to business.

Thank you!

Really guys, thanks. Thanks for the comments, thanks for subscribing, thank you for retweeting and faving the links so you can read ’em later, thanks for all the DMs, tweets, pings, someone even sent an e-mail to say she really enjoyed my blog. I couldn’t have done it without you people being constantly expectant. It got boring after a while, but you faggots hung on till the end.

I. Am. Grateful.

Thank you to:

    -Everyone who wrote for me. (And everyone who didn’t). That would include Larry Sushey, Wana, Basco The Martian, Chyke, Kelvin, Coco, Steff, Lade, Tobzville, and Wole (did I miss anyone?). You guys are the fucking utter scum of the insane universe. Thank you for sharing your amazing brains with my pen.
    -Every blog I got info from. Especially for the Chronicles Of Awesomeness Section. Loads of stuff was taken from Wikipedia and http://www.badassoftheweek.com. That’s an amazing site guys. You’ll be held spellbound by the level of humour et pure awesomeness on that site. Check it out.
    -My very own Vixen. For all the dumb ideas she unconsciously gave me. I love you woman. No homo.
    -Every single person who helped me get to 12,000+ views in less than 3 months without having to tag your names repeatedly in each post’s link. Y’all rock.

THANK YOU!

After all that has been said and done, I have an even bigger announcement to make.

I’m closing the blog. ( ._.)

Yes. I’m serious.

Yes. Again.

Hear me out first na! At least I’m officially announcing it this time. Damn humans!

So I was having a conversation with Wole, and he had this brilliant idea (I’m most certain it was while he was sipping on one of those his Cocktail Concoctions) that he shared with me. Now we all agree that the most interesting blogs are those that are run by two or more people. Need I cite examples?

They’re not paying for advertising so….( ˘˘̯)

Yeah, so he suggested that I merge with someone and run a collective blog. I thought it was a brilliant idea. So guess who I decided to merge with?

That’s right. *drumroll* @Sirkastiq

I spoke to him about it, and he bought the idea.

Technically, I’m not even closing the blog, I’m simply moving to a new address. I shall also be moving with my blog content so there’s no need to worry. All the posts, the comments and what not will still be on the TSC blog.

Does this work for everybody? Let me know if you have any questions/objections. You enemy of progress.

Technicalities like “Will my subscribers become his subscribers too?” will have to be answered by WordPress…or time.

Ya! So, we’re moving. (We also have @TheGreyGenesis on board. Together, the three of us shall rule the world! And our 2D notebooks! Muahahahahahahaha!) We also have some stuff planned for you guys, but it’s not in my place to announce that.

Again, thank you. For everything. You guys are amazing. I really love you homosexualssapiens.

See you at TSC. I guess.

Tat Ma Name

Beach.
Movies.
Video Games.
Bedroom.
Friend’s House.
Clubs.
Restaurants;
These were the basic ingredients in my relationship with Koko. It was sweet, real and in your face bitches… I called him Sweat & he called me Salt, weird I know but that’s the thing about me & Koko we aren’t your next door couple. The fights were always intense & the sex was the Thriller in the Manilla, Rumble in the jungle type of shit.

His dick was my weed, my drug, my elixir, my kryptonite, my food…. I smoked a joint every morning; just wrap my lips around his joint & blow. Twitter was our playground, we laughed @ some basic people there (Oracle, Madam Nose & That Dude)…. A lot of people were jealous of us, our PDA was offensive yet interesting .
Everything was good. On point. Blissful till…….

Well, till our 2nd year anniversary, I already had it figured out:
-Ice cream ☑
-Movie (The NoteBook) ☑
-Honey ☑
-Handcuffs ☑
-Striptease ☑

Just basic stuff nothing extravagant per say. I called homeboy & told him to come over. I had on my black corset, fishnet stockings & red stripper heels. I was on the mission to make him my bitch for the day….

Koko came over & told me he had a surprise for me but I had to dress up first. I sadly dropped my imaginary whip, got dressed & we went out…

‘Is he going to propose?, OMG OMG OMG is he?’ I was trying to compose my nervousness when this nigger pulled up to a complex…. ‘Err okay, what am I doing here’ I asked myself. I looked at his face but couldn’t read shit so I decided to play along. We entered a Tattoo shop & he shouted:

‘SURPRISE!!’

I was stunned that he bought a tattoo shop for me, I was already devising a plan on how to transform it to a shoe whore house when my sweet Koko announced:

‘ We are getting Tattoos love’.

Wait what? Are you kidding me?

I looked at him with my mouth wide open & the negro continued

‘We are getting tattoos of our names, I’m gonna write your name on my chest, where will you prefer?’

I just kissed him & smiled. I told him to go begin, I stood by his side as they stencilled my name, I watched them shave the necessary part as the needles began working. I excused myself and walked out, the whole twitter ish about the girl (Handle withheld for obvious reasons) that got a tattoo of her boyfriend & got dumped later played in my head till I got into a cab.

I switched off my phone and thought about the Ice cream melting away at home (Fucking Waste)
Then Rick Ross’s Free Spirit played on the stereo. Tat my name on you so I know it’s real. Tat my motherfucking name so I know you’re an Ode… I laughed out loud_

Happy Anniversary Koko :*

Untitled

There comes a stage in every man’s life where he reflects on what he has done with the billions of seconds he has spent on earth, and if he hasn’t been very useful to his generation in at least his own little way, he starts to have a mid-life crisis. This usually occurs between the ages of 40 and 50. And for highly ambitious people, it happens in their mid 30s. I had mine at 12.

Where am I going with this?

If Nigeria was a man, he probably had a mid-life crisis about a decade ago. Probably works for the civil service, has about 5 children, hates his job, and hates himself. He comes back home every night and demands for food that he didn’t supply the money for, can’t properly make love to his wife because he’s past his prime, can’t afford to give his children the finer things in life, and can’t even look in the mirror because his own reflection shakes its head in pity.

Why?

Let’s face it guys, considering its potential, Nigeria is a 51-year-old under-achiever going on 52 with no apparent goals or objectives in sight. Nigeria has given up on its future and has resigned to its fate. Frankly speaking, its citizens aren’t really bothered about what goes on in government and as long as the common man can find his daily Agege bread and beans, he is content. But what happens when the poor have nothing left to eat but the rich? Suya becomes a delicacy in some parts.

I would be stating the obvious by saying there are problems that need to be fixed. Problems that had they been taken care of long ago, the economy would be booming so badly, the neighbouring countries would not be able to stand the odour.

Our major resource in this country is Crude oil. The petroleum business is still a gold mine, and even with the illegal bunkering and smuggling going on, it’s still a multi-billion dollar organisation. But it is rapidly depleting. Isn’t it time we took a cue from a country like Dubai and focused our awareness on other sectors of the economy that would bring us income? In the next half century, the oil will be dwindled, and then what? Are we thinking of our future or our pockets?

There are so many other sectors to focus on. Government after government has made promise after promise and we have seen no more improvement in the economy other than an improvement in the budget that allows a single individual to feed on 1,000,000,000 naira in 365 days; a sum which amounts to about 2,740,000 daily.

But that’s cool. We can afford to buy rice and fish so we’re fine.

The power sector is a mess. A man cannot start a business that is run by electricity successfully without buying a backup generator for his main generator. There is hardly enough food to go round the economy, our locally made Ofada rice costs more than the imported rice yet we fold our arms and play ludo each evening like nothing is wrong. The roads leave your car looking like it was attacked by other disgruntled cars and left for dead and the goods transported on these roads leave home looking healthy and arrive looking like they’re in dire need of medical attention.

Yet our president has a feeding budget that could comfortably provide for a small village for 25 years? And nothing has been done about it? Is something not wrong with our psychology?

Let’s focus on the issue of agriculture. Now I’m not saying I have the solution for it, but I’m saying I have a solution for it. The solution, my dear readers is our very own National Youth Service Corps; NYSC.

Just hear me out.

I am a serving corps member and as much as I’d love the scheme to be scrapped so we can stop being exploited and under-utilised and under-paid for our services, I have come to the conclusion that the government is never going to scrap it. The simple reason behind this is the fact that they are making way too much money from it. A short example would be the uniform of the corps members which at a glimpse can be observed to be worth no more than 10,000 naira per head. (Some would say this is an overstatement). But the contract allocated provides the sum of 70,000 naira for each corps member’s apparel. Deduct and multiply and let your mind be blown at the amount of profit the contractors are making from this scheme. People, NYSC is here to stay.

Since we’re not going to scrap it, how about we put it into good use then? Send the corps members to the farms. Now I know how hard it is, and how difficult it appears to ask graduates of Computer Science or Accounting to take cutlasses and hoes to plough a strip of land, but what if it’s mechanised? They can apply their expertise to various areas of farming.

Think about it, there’s a one year compulsory service where corps members of each state are given acres of land dedicated to farming; mechanised farming. There’s a steady influx of labour, and please, you can’t afford to be paying them N19,800 and expecting them to skip around merrily working for you. Increase the minimum wage; provide tractors and farms for each state; and make it mandatory.

In less than two years, there will be a transformation in the agricultural sector. You will discover that every single course that is being studied in Nigerian universities will apply n one way or the other to the sector, because it’s on a factory scale.

Of course it’s easier said than done, but believe it or not, those who see profit in it (say 30%…let’s be realistic) will be willing to stay in the business and help make it improve. T’s not like there is an abundance of jobs available in today’s labour market in the first place.

Understand that this is simply a suggestion, and as feasible as it is, the same way generator retailers will do their best to make sure there is never 24 hours electricity supply in the country, those who are looking for cheap labour and those making money from various sectors of the NYSC scheme will work to make sure the status quo isn’t tampered with, but for how long are we going to play the sitting duck and not do anything about our depleting economy?

The time to do something about anything is yesterday. I suggest we start now.

Shitty Business

I must say growing up was fun. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely fun back then but now, when you sit back relaxed with a hot cup of molten choco milo and reflect on the past, you actually realise it was fun – sometimes, I’m even honest to myself to admit i miss it.

Whenever I’m struck with such memories, its the ones with me in nursery and primary school that get me laughing a lot. Come on, you can’t tell me you never covered your ass with ur hand, farted and used the same hand to cover ur classmates nose. Or stuck pencils on a friend’s chair and waited for ‘her’ to sit down. Or eaten your meal so early in the morning before your friends come, so you can lie to them that you forgot it at home so they can share theirs. Or…………. Should I go on?

Hey, don’t give me that look.

😐

Other things I often remember are the things we were taught in nursery class. I’m talking about the rules we had to follow, etiquettes, we were taught to show courtesy at all times, to pray before eating, to sleep when told to, never to tell lies even if it meant us getting into trouble, to always trust our elders;

“Tobe, did you do your assignment today?”

“……………………..”

“Come on tell me, you know I won’t beat you”

“I didn’t do it”

I still have the scars.

😦

But come to think of it, these things they were actually trying to teach us back then, while we thought they were just being mean to us, were quite helpful. I remember specifically how we used to stand up and recite this ‘welcome greeting’ in nursery class every time a parent/teacher/headmistress came in.

“Goodmooooooooooorning Ma/Sir….. You are welcome to nursery 2A. God bless you Ma/Sir, Amen. Thank You.”

It was compulsory that any time someone much older than you walked in, you were to show your full respect by standing up and warming the person into the room, with your charm of course. Even if the person was so hideously looking and all you could think of was a crucifix and some garlic to chase the person away, you still had to pray for them. (That’s where the ‘God Bless You’ part comes in)

What our nursery school teachers failed to do, was to tell us this particular courtesy doesn’t apply in all cases – there are some instances you can’t just stand up and say hi… Fuck the rules!

What you are going to read happened in a small village called Nkwerre, in Nigeria of course…way back in the 1990s. 1994 to be precise.

On the fateful year, my parents decided that I should spend some time with my maternal uncle’s family back in the village who was a popular trader. My uncle and my aunt considered me as that ‘City Boy’ who needed a lot of help to adjust to life in Nkwerre and they tried their very best to make my 15day stay comfortable. Unfortunately, they couldn’t help me with one thing… Back then, houses in Nkwerre didn’t have toilets.

Yes.

You read it right…

They didn’t have toilets. The folks in Nkwerre were so busy working that they found allocating space to toilets, an unnecessary wastage.

So as a result, my uncle’s house also didn’t have a toilet.

Within 30 minutes of landing in their house, I asked: “Uncle, toilet?”

“Number one or number two?” He enquired.

“Please Uncle, tell me,” I replied embarrassed.

“Son, it depends. Tell me…number one or number two?”

“”Hmm…number one.”

“Just head out to that little shed down there, wait for it to be empty. The best times for this is between 2pm to 4 pm”

“Whattttt?” I just couldn’t believe my ears, and eyes, at what he was pointing at.

My uncle smiled.

“Don’t worry, we have a better arrangement for number two.”

I could see that he was confident that his solution for number two was better than that for number one.

“And what if it were number two?”

“Hmm…in that case, here take this ₦5 note and head straight for the Anthony Road, the very next street…they have a public toilet there. Tell the guy sitting outside that its number two and give him this ₦5 and he will allow you inside.”

“Whattttt?” Again, I just couldn’t believe my ears.

Fate had struck twice within the span of 30 seconds. And struck at my genitals…it wasn’t going to be easy getting up.

With a heavy heart, I walked out of the house, onto the next shed and waited for it to be empty (it was a long wait)…and then emptied my bladder. The moment I was back, my uncle, aunt and their three children were waiting to ask me how it went. To add insult to injury, they were smiling.

That day, I didn’t drink too much water …but still had to rush out at 7pm. It was a little easier. At around 8pm, it struck me that I should also be worried about the next day morning. What about number two? So, I had a very light dinner…it surprised my aunt that a boy my age had such bad appetite. But I wasn’t willing to risk emptying my bowels in my trouser.

At 11 pm, I managed to sleep off the fear. But it was back again when I got up at 7am. I moved around the house slowly…lest I trigger some bowel movements. I refused the tea my aunt gave me saying I wasn’t into drinking tea. She couldn’t believe it…but I was adamant.

At 6.30 am, my uncle said I could accompany him to the public toilet. The whole distance I tried to maintain a balanced walk, lest I triggered any intestinal movements. I tried not to laugh at my uncle’s jokes, which tend to upset him a bit…but I didn’t care. Honour before anything else.

My first public toilet experience was a huge success. I was in and out in less than two minutes. The man who collected money smiled when he saw me return and asked me to come back the next day – and why not, after all it is the two-minute customers like me whom he would prefer for a bountiful business.

The next day my uncle didn’t accompany me. I would ask my uncle for ₦5 and walk out of the house on my daily chore….it was that simple. The next three days went well…in fact I had started to enjoy the new experience. It was all fine, I told myself. Or at least that is what I thought.

But on the fourth day tragedy struck…the moment I came out of the toilet after spending my ₦5, my stomach started mumbling again and I had this urge to go back immediately.

“Hi Sir, I just paid you ₦5 and came out early. Can I go again please?”

“No! For ₦5 there is only one entry. To enter again, you need to pay me another ₦5.”

I wouldn’t say I walked back with a heavy heart…it was in fact heavy bowels that I walked back home with, asked my uncle for another ₦5 and walked all the way back to the public toilet to relieve myself. I came back to my uncle’s house a dejected boy…and also, a boy who had understood the importance of ₦5.

This went on for a few days (I had started going there with ₦10, just in case). During a casual chat with my uncle, I asked him:

“Is this the only place one can go to?”

“No…there are couple of other options as well. But I thought you might not be so adventurous.”

This pricked my ego so I replied: “You haven’t tried me yet, uncle.”

He continued looking into his papers and said: “OK then, be ready at 6am. I would suggest you eat a light dinner.”

The next day we took off at about 6.15 am for an adventurous dump taking. Once I started asking questions, I came to know that we were going to a almost dried up lake in the outskirts of the village. We were to take a dump in the lake, wash up in the yet-to-dry parts of the lake and come back home.

As luck would have it, this lake was 3kms away and I was tired by the time we reached. But when we reached, it was heavenly….a wide expanse of dried up land with little bushes sprinkled all around. Once we were almost in the middle of the dried up lake, my uncle advised me to take a spot behind one of the bushes and relieve myself. The very next moment, he vanished…. probably behind some bushes.

I looked around, found a thickset bush, went behind it and squatted. The next two minutes were very peaceful…nobody in sight, just the chirruping of the birds. Just when I was about to get up I heard some women talking and the voices grew louder with time. I tried to place where they were coming from….and it was from right behind me.

I had two choices – stay put and pretend nothing happened or get up and stand right in the middle of nowhere, greet them while I pretend I was doing something else. I could have easily said I was Weeding the bushes. Or looking for my aunty’s lost earring. Or following the trails left by an animal, probably a mammoth.

Or just claim to be picking beans.

“Where’s is the beans?”

I planted them some days ago but not everyone can see them because they were magic beans an old woman gave me.

I chose the first option.

Now the voices were really close…and that’s when I heard: “Why won’t he get up? He is still sitting there. Has he no respect?”

They were talking about me!

But I stubbornly held my ground…now they were probably 15meters behind me.

Within seconds I could see them from the corner of my right eye. My nursery school teacher hadn’t advised me on the appropriate behaviour in such instances. The stench coming from beneath me was suicidal. But I held my ground…I continued to sit. For psychological comfort, I even closed my eyes.

I heard one woman ask the other: “Do you think he is blind?”

The other replied: “Even if he was blind, I am sure he can hear us. Or is he is both blind and deaf?”

Now I didn’t need to look through the corner of my eye – I could see them through the bushes. But I continued to hold my ground.

Before they disappeared, the first woman told the second: “Children of now a days have no respect…can’t they get up when they see women approaching? Nonsense! If he were my child I would have beaten his destiny out of him.”

Now I knew why the women were upset…but it was too late to get up.

I think it was a mini heart attack or a nervous breakdown, all I remember was gravity taking over and something warm and uncomfortable welcoming me.

Oh…shit.

Fairy Fails

I was sitting around doing my daily Rounds of meditation, and a few thoughts crept into my subconscious and opened my mind to things that you homo sapiens have otherwise been oblivious to. You people have been in the dark for far too long yo!

Never fear. Cumical’s here.

I shall further proceed to enlighten you. It’s bad enough that you have no idea about the origins of the childhood stories you grew up to. And yet you stay eating food and breathing air like nothing is wrong! There are subconscious messages in the average storybook, and y’all niggas don’t see this shit?

Tsk tsk. *lights blunt*

Listen close.

We shall begin with by far the most obvious sex scandal of all time. Subtly hidden in the title I might add. I wonder why no one has seen this.

-Little Red Riding Hood
This skank red-haired ho here be wearing red pumps and lingerie, skipping through the forest merrily, looking for some dick.

Yo! Red is by far the worst ho since Snow White.

But that’s a story for another day.

Ain’t no damn wolf in this love story. Shiiit.

Remember Robin Hood? Steal-from-the-rich give-to-the-broke-ass-bitches Robin Hood? Real nigga with the bows and arrows and the really strong hands, and about four hunnid faggots all up in his grill ‘n’ shit? Yeah, that’s the nigga we’re gonna be shedding some light on.

Huddle up niggas. Huddle up.

So Red be doing her daily dick survey yeah? Robin Hood be setting traps for rich niggas in the forest n shit. Red be going “Damn, he fine” skipping merrily t’wards the nigga with her titties all bouncing and what not, goimg “Hey, what big strong hands you have”

Now Robin Hood might be a kind hearted gentleman that gives to the poor and to charity and all, but the wadn’t gon let no pussy slide, nah mean? So he gets his baritone on and goes “The better to fist you with”

Oi! Wole, Tula! Do you see what I did there? No?

Then Red goes “What a strong back you have”

Hood goes “Yeah, work’s all night too”

Red goes “What a big dick you have”

Hood goes “How the fuck did you see that?”

Red goes “Oh I seen you butt nekkid during those regular feasts o’ yours. Yeah, you be hanging that dick on your shoulder n’ shit” and the skank ho starts taking Hood’s shirt off, and his pants and gets on top of him and…

Well, Little Red (starts) Riding Hood.

Bet you didn’t know that, didya? Nah…

You’re welcome. Mortals…

Let’s move on, shall we?

-Rapunzel

Everyone knows Rapunzel was black right? If you didn’t know, then now you do. She lived in a tower with her ‘wicked grandmother’, who never let her go out, she was 18 years old, and she was blacker than Michael Jackson. And guess what other thing she had in common with MJ?

A jerry curl…

Lemme start from the beginning though! Kick some knowledge in this bitch.
Rapunzel’s ‘grandmother’ didn’t need Rapunzel’s hair to look young. She had Dr. 90210 for that shit. Naaah. Rapunzel’s mother was a lesbian yo! And she needed that young blood, that vibrant exotic body. Rapey never got any older than 18, and that was her magic. Not that she could transfer that to anybody or any absurd shit like that.

ALSO (and this is very important), Rapey had a fro. But it wasn’t on her head. It was down south on her tushie. Booyah!
I kid you not. Faggots, I kid you not.
Rapunzel’s grandmother had a standard OTIS lift that took her up and down the tower so she really didn’t need Rapey’s hair to get in and out. So really, every time she said “Rapunzel, let down your hair”, she wanted to have sex.

And believe it or not, Rapey’s vagina fro would become a jerry curl and slide all the way down, parting at the clittoris to reveal that sweet nectar.

Get it? Let down…your hair?

*crowd goes crazy*

*blushing* Shhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! You guys! I’m trying to spit wisdom.

Another thing, is that the fro had voice prompt. So the damn vagina wouldn’t open up for anybody else. So a young horny prince once noticed this shit going on, and recorded Rapey’s grandmother while she was saying “Let down your hair”, and then bust a cap in her, and saved Rapey from the bondage therein. He now had the key to the pussy which he kept locked on his iPod.

You’re welcome yo! You’re welcome.

I’ve got a couple more, but the post is already getting long, so that will be all for today. Cool? Cool. See y’all tomorrow.

Am I free now?

Episode 3

2-Jun-2012

Being a super hero is not all it’s jazzed out to be. Sometimes it’s a real pain in the ass. Especially when you have a superhero boyfriend who is equally as strong as you.
Sometimes I pity Aquaman. But sometimes I think he likes the pounding, cos Supes doesn’t get tired. As long as he’s getting rays from the sun, he can go on forever. And Aqua just needs water. He and Aquaman have this island in the middle of the Atlantic that no one has discovered yet. Plenty of sunshine and plenty of water. So nobody’s power ever depletes.

If these guys were human, they would have killed each other by now yo!

Imagine that they invited me for a three-some.

I want to live. Thanks.

Another downside of being a super freak is these people expect you to be all righteous n shit. (Now if I said the word “shit” during a press conference, I’ll be termed as “NSFW”. But I keep the streets safe so you can go to work right? Fuck you judgemental pricks.

No homo.

Anyway, I love my life. And my boyfriend.

And of course, my powers.

The ring always comes in handy. *sniggers* Especially when Flash isn’t around to get me off. Even though those fast hands really work magic. Anyway, I had just damaged a few minds during the career talk I had at school today. They wanted me to talk about being a super hero. They should have known better. The ring did an excellent slideshow of what it’s like to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. They won’t be calling me again.

Just doing my bit for society.

Idiots.

I race back home. Can’t wait to return to my laptop because I need to download Brokeback Mountain and chat with Chyke. I’ve taken a certain liking to him. On my way I save this cute teenager from being mugged. He gives me his number. Too bad I’m not ready to go to jail for pedophilia. I’ll give this to Batman. He’s not afraid of prison.

I haven’t seen Hawk Woman in a while. A long ass while. But then again, I haven’t seen Wonder Woman either. It’s kinda like the gay aura has driven away all the oestrogen from the atmosphere and replaced it with well, testosterone-type oestrogen. I don’t get it. Aren’t women known to hang out more with gay men? Aren’t we supposed to be the ones they can relate with better? So what we take all the dick, doesn’t mean they can’t stick around to talk about stuff. You know, for once, I’d like to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians with someone who would understand me. I haven’t seen an episode of Glee in ages because there’s no one to share it with. The ‘men’ don’t understand.

I’m crying.

Being a super hero is so hard.

I just want to go shopping dammit!

———————————

Okay guys, I missed a day two days ago, and nobody is allowing me hear word. so…as remuneration, I’m going to post something here again today at 4. You might wanna stick around. I love you homosexuals.

No homo.

Yeah. Moyo can calm her titties now. Thank you for the pressure baby.

Episode 2

1-June-2012

THE GREEN LANTERN COMES OUT AS BRAVE, MIGHTY, AND GAY.

The newspaper headlines are agog with the news of my sexuality. The fanmail from the regular people has dropped considerately. And have been replaced with a lot of death threats, (really, like they could take me on my worst day) a few broken hearted messages, some encouragements from the gay community, and a whole lot of admiration from a Chyke person, a certain @Monsieur_RJ on twitter who has consistently spammed my mail box with messages of how much he admires me a lot more now that I came out the closet, how he jerks off to posters of me, how I have become his new favourite hero, and how I’m basically the reason for his existence. Flattering as that is, it makes me puke.

Sicko.

Why can’t you people just let me be?

I reply a few of the mails and shut my GL laptop. Really, I could use some head right now. But nooooo! There has to be an eight-headed hydra in the streets right now disrupting the peace. Superman has gone ‘fishing’ with Aquaman, There was a meeting holding in GL HQ, and the entire GL Squad was supposed to attend, but I feigned sickness cos I needed some alone time, Flash had gone to the future to see his kids. He does that all the time, soft nigga. Wonder woman went home for their bi-annual amazonian training, and Batman and Robin were…well, doing their thing in the bat cave. Whatever, I was alone. I could hear the commotion the hydra was causing, and I remembered our watch word.

“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight”.

But evil is relative. So fuck it. The people could use some fear. That’ll teach ’em to send death threats to the people who try to protect them. I hope one of them ‘Anonymous’ hateful bashers gets eaten.

I slip the ring on and concentrate, I feel the power surge in my veins, and the faint glow of green fills the room. Then I concentrate a little more and a stream of light shoots out of the ring and forms into a human, an Adonis. Perfect. He kneels before me and takes my pants off.

I did say the ring comes in handy.

30 minutes later and I’m a streak of green light in the sky. The hydra hasn’t even done as much damage as I thought. Damn! I sigh and charge down at the monster. The green glow around my body takes a more definite oval shape with a sharp point and I slice right through the hydra’s skin. In it’s gross belly I concentrate my energy and expand my shield until the monster is blown to tiny bits.

I fall to the ground in fabulous green splendour and light.

Resplendent.

A tomato flies across my face. Luckily for the tomato, it didn’t hit – *splat*
An even larger one lands square across my face. Of course it doesn’t come in direct contact with my skin, but just slides off my glittery armour because I’m wearing the ring, but still, I’m fuming.

“Get out of our town, faggot!”

Isn’t this evil? Should this escape my sight? I’m a human being with feelings goddammit! I think I’m going to cry.

But no! I’m a strong independent woman and I will stand my ground no matter what!
Fuck this!

I fly off in an array of christmasey lights. And there are no cheers.

——————————–

Back in the Justice Lair, a few of my friends have arrived. Supes and Aqua are ‘chilling’ in the observatory, and Wonder Woman is spying in the Watch Tower, the Green Lantern Squad is on their way back, I feel them. But one person is missing. My boo.

Flash still hasn’t returned.

I miss him.

Episode 1

31-May-2012

It’s been 72 years…72 goddamn sweaty years since we were created. We’ve been cooped up in this closet, and the rest of the Green Lantern squad, Superman, Batman, and the Boy Wonder (so called for his amazing blowjob skills), Aquaman, Hawkman, that sexy, flexy ass Flash, and Yours Truly have been in dire need to come out the closet and just be free goddammit! Frankly, it was getting really hot in here, the orgies were intense.

There was Superman jerking Aquaman off, the entire GL squad engaged in an 8-some, Batman holding Robin’s head tightly, and Flash had me bent over going 800 tps (thrusts per second). Don’t get me wrong, sneaking around in the Justice League cabin was fun, but we all wanted to come out the closet.

But no one was ready to make the first move.

Not even me.

Flash had just cum…for the 18th time in 12 minutes. That nigga cums way too fast. I hate when he gives me head. It’s over in seconds and I wouldn’t even have taken my pants off.

Cheeky bastard…

Anyway, he had just bust a nut, and was busy wiping off ready to go again, I told him I needed a break, and a refill of energy. In the last 3 hours, I had worn out the power in my ring using about 80% battery to form a make-shift condom for Flashy boy here and the other 20% to form a strong table-like platform for me to bend over.

Now, we had all just had the best orgy of our lives in the last one hour. Superheroes really have that stamina thing going for them. We were all extremely exhausted, but still we all just wanted to go another round.

Oblivious, I had simply stepped out to get some more Alomo Bitters. Who woulda known that the jealous bitch Wonder Woman (who just hated the fact that Superman picked Aquaman over her. But in Supe’s defence, Aquaman said he would never let him visit his under-water home if he didn’t give him handjobs daily) had arranged the press with their cameras and errthang? Everybody was waiting outside the door, everybody was expecting to see Superman, and instead, the infamous Green Lantern comes out of the closet.

Naked…

…with a Green Lantern Limited Edition tube of lube…

…and a dildo.

Where is Flash when you need him?
Oh yeah. He closed the fucking door behind me. Thanks a lot..

Bitch.

“Mr Alan Scott! This way! Smile for the camera”

“Mr Scott! We just saw you come out of the closet! Do you have any statement to make?”

“Mr Scott! When did you discover you were a homo faggot?”

“Mr Alan Scott! Are there any more homosexuals in there with you?”

“Yo faggot! You really think sucking dick is better than eating some pussy? Leave that for the bitches yo!”

At that point, I don’t know what happened to me, but I blurted out “I’m a man fool! I got a dick! You really think I wouldn’t know how to work it better than the bitches who ain’t got none?”

The press members furiously start penning shit down.

A voice from inside the closet went “Preach!”

Musta been Batman.

Why aren’t you out here with me? Huh? Pussy.

“I would really like to get back in the closet now guys, thank you”, I say, turning around to head back into the closet.

“Hey, if Superman is in there, tell him he hasn’t finished his homework, and he’s supposed to help me with the dishes. Also, there’s been an earthquake in Turkey”, Wonder Woman says to me.

And Superman goes; “Bitch, you lying! I’m listening to some of the voices in Turkey right now! Ain’t nothing but blue skies and sexy men frolicking on the beach in nothing but their und…wait. I’ll be right out!” and a wave of blue light streaks across the room.

I secretly hope a camera caught him as I shut the door behind me.

Introduction

Basically mortals, we’re halfway done with the series yeah? *Hi-fives my lonely self* The Chronicles of Awesomeness section is over, as you might have noticed, and you guys have been so supportive. I really want to appreciate every nutcase who took time out to write for me. I appreciate that shit. Don’t worry, all the props that need to be given will be given in the concluding post. If we ever get there..

We’re close anyway. So…

Yeah, Ladies and men, felines and fellas, since we are done with that, it’s time for us to move on to more important matters. Settle down while I kick knowledge all over blogsville.

Haha! Who dash me depth?

Anybody here ever watched Megamind? Amazing movie… It’s the kind of movie you go to the cinema and watch because you have no other choice, and then end up thoroughly enjoying. Well thought out plot, great graphics, amazing jokes and all that jazz.

But did anybody notice how ‘Jesus’ came from heaven, and landed in a home, and how he walked on water, and how he died, and came back to life?

No? Me neither…

Moving on…

Have you heard? That the Green Lantern? Is GAY?

FREAKING AMAZING!!!!
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH FUN I AM GOING TO HAVE WITH THIS? NO REALLY! I’M EXCITED FOR THE HOMOSEXUAL! AND FOR MYSELF! OH LAWD! THIS IS LIFE CHANGING SHIT!

I’m sure you guys are going: Terdoh has come again with his nonsense. Ask for proof and I shall provide, or simply use google. Thomas.

In lieu of this recent development, we at Cumical Anecdotes have started a new series known as “The Green Light; at the end of the brown chocolate Alley”.
Or…no no…that doesn’t sound right. Wait…
I asked a couple of my friends, and these are some of the suggestions they came up with:

    “Red means stop, yellow means ready, green means bend over”?
    “The Lantern, the Ring, and the Tube…of Lube”?
    “To infinity and back…for some booty”?
    “Save the world, suck a dick”?
    “The Great Escape, through the back door”?

Haha! Y’all niggas are the worst! I’m going to call it the Green Light District. Thank you Kelvin.

Here are a few excerpts to expect:

“Anyway, he had just bust a nut, and was busy wiping off ready to go again, I told him I needed a break, and a refill of energy. In the last 3 hours, I had worn out the power in my ring using about 80% battery to form a make-shift condom for Flashy boy here and the other 20% to form a strong table-like platform for me to bend over.”

————————————–

“The newspaper headlines are agog with the news of my sexuality. The fanmail from the regular people has dropped considerately. And have been replaced with a lot of death threats, (really, like they could take me on my worst day) a few broken hearted messages, some encouragements from the gay community, and a whole lot of admiration from a certain Chyke person”

————————————–

“The ring always comes in handy (all puns intended). Especially when Flash isn’t around to get me off. Those fast hands really work magic. Anyway, I had just damaged a few minds during the career talk I had at school today. They wanted me to talk about being a super hero. They should have known better. The ring did an excellent slideshow of what it’s like to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. They won’t be calling me again.”

————————————–

Do not laugh at this. This is serious business.
Hehe.
See y’all tomorrow.