The Internet

Oh, I get it. You didn't go any of those places. There was no whale belly. There was no moon. There was no Mt. Kilimanjaro. There may or may not have been a swamp, but I'm a lot less willing to let that one go.

You were just in the Internet. I made you up. Or, maybe you made me up. If you're actually reading this, then you're probably real. I'm probably more real than you, though, because I'm not inside the Internet.

What? Of course I'm real. I'm the one who came up with this whole thing. I'm the one with the blog. I even ate lunch just a little bit ago, and only real people eat food. Seriously--I tried to fee my imaginary friend once, and it didn't work at all.

If you're so real, why don't you leave the Internet and go for a walk or something? Maybe you could go back to the swamp. Yeah, that shut you up. Bet you wish you could go to the swamp now, don't you, Mr. Internet-man.

I'm the best blogger ever.

The Belly of a Whale

First let me say that this is WAY better than the moon. A little humid, but humidity I can deal with. Plus, blowhole, which is always fun.

But before we get all gung-ho on the whale belly, I have to let you know that you, my friend, have been nothing but a jerk all day. I've been so kind and generous, I invited you down to the swamp, and we could have had a party, lived forever, and enjoyed the swampiness together until the sun melted. I'm not usually like that with everybody, but I was with you.

And then you have to run off to the tallest mountain in Africa, knowing full well that I'm too fat to climb mountains, without so much as a wave goodbye. Even if I was with you, you probably would have gone too fast for me to keep up. I bet you wouldn't even have taken a break if I wanted to get a Dr. Pepper. You probably don't even know how much I love Dr. Pepper. A lot, that's how much.

Thankfully I did catch up with you, but as soon as I try to feed the giraffes, you shoot up to the moon somehow. I could have dealt with the whole Kilamanjaro thing, but the moon took it too far. That made it obvious that you really don't like me. I can imagine the thought process: "Hmm...where can I go to get away from this butthole who keeps wanting me to go to his stupid swamp? I know, I'll go to the nearest place that can't possibly sustain human life! The moon!"

But now we're in the belly of a whale, which is pretty nice. Really, pal, good choice on this one. Sort of reminds me of the swamp, actually.

The Surface of the Moon

Whoa, how'd you get all the way up here? Did you jump from the peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro? I really didn't think you could jump this high. Maybe you should jump right now, just so we know if you really can jump from the tallest mountain in Africa to the moon.

I bet you can only jump that high because there's less gravity on the moon.

Patrick Henry once said, "The moon is a harsh mistress," and though I don't know exactly what that means, it's probably a good argument for you to return to earth. You could even come back to the swamp if you want.

OK, I'll lay off talking about the swamp for a while. Let's talk about the moon, shall we? Wow, just look at all that dust. The weather sure is nice when you don't have an atmosphere. Wait, did you hear that? You didn't because there wasn't a sound because there's nothing on the moon.

You're probably not even on the moon, are you? What a cruel joke. Did you go back to the swamp and not tell me? If you think you can just keep running around the universe trying to get away from me, you're wrong. Dead wrong.

The Peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro

Well I see you got out of the swamp. Now you're almost at the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. That's pretty impressive, especially the part about getting out of the swamp.

You got up here pretty fast too. Normally it takes like a day to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, but you did it in like 20 minutes. Do you have a teleporting machine or something? You must really have wanted to get out of that swamp.

Was the swamp really that bad? I mean, yeah, it stinks, and you got a lot of mud in your shoes, and if you had stayed any longer, you probably would have gotten eaten, but come on. Mt. Kilimanjaro can't be much better. Look at all the snow.

Is it because I'm laying the whole swamp business on a little thick? I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing. But you didn't have to go all the way to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. You could have just gone to another swamp (which incidentally is the same swamp).

Looks like you're getting tired. Maybe you should just give up and come back to the swamp.

The Swamp

Welcome to...the swamp.


You've probably never been here before. I know you're busy, but that's not a good excuse. The swamp has been calling to you. You shouldn't just ignore the swamp when it calls.

One time the swamp called me at like 3 in the morning. I didn't answer because I was sleeping. Then it came over to my house, snuck in because I forgot to lock the door, and threw up all over my couch. Now I always answer when the swamp calls.

I know you're worried about getting eaten by the things that live in the swamp. That's OK, everybody who visits the swamp is worried about getting eaten. And well you should be. People who visit the swamp have only a 30% survival rate. The swamp keeps pretty good statistics on these sorts of things.

Have you ever seen the movie Swamp Thing or the animated show of the same name? That's pretty much exactly what the swamp is like, except for the large swamp-colored superhero. But if you stayed here in the swamp long enough, you too would become swamp-colored, though you probably would not become a superhero.

Also, you can never leave the swamp.

Burrito Betrayal

I will never eat at Qdoba again.

I went there last night, excited to have my first chicken mole burrito in something like six months, only to discover that it's no longer on the menu. My conversation with the Qdoba burrito technician went exactly like this:

ME: (excitedly) I'll have a chicken mole burrito, please!
GUY: (extremely confused) Chicken mole?

So I had a chicken queso burrito instead, which was not nearly as great as it's been talked up to be, and which may have given me salmonella or bird flu. And as disappointing as that was on its own, it was compounded by the fact that I could not have the mole my heart so greatly yearned for.

I once argued with passion that Qdoba was inarguably better than Chipotle. Now that I've been betrayed and my favorite burrito has been stolen, Qdoba has dropped below Chipotle and may even fall below Baja Sol by the end of the week. That's how upset I am.

Double Cross

Somewhere in Russia, 40-50 years ago...

JOEY: Good thing we finally escaped from those Commies.
REX: Yeah. I don't know how much longer I could have taken that prison.
JOEY: Do you still have the microfilm?
REX: Sure do.
JOEY: (draws his gun) I'll be taking that.
REX: What?
JOEY: I was a Russian agent all along! Now if you don't mind--
REX: (draws his gun) Actually I do.
JOEY: What?
REX: Drop your gun.
JOEY: (drops his gun)
REX: I knew you were a double agent all along. Now I'll be taking you back to America with the microfilm--
JOEY: (draws another gun) Not so fast.
REX: You have another gun?
JOEY: I knew that you knew I was a double agent, and it was only a matter of time before I turned on you and you turned on me. I was ready to turn on you a second time from the moment we met. Now drop your gun.
REX: (drops his gun)
JOEY:
REX: (immediately draws another gun) Did you think I'd be so stupid to let you get away with double-crossing me a second time?
JOEY: OK, you got me. (drops his gun) But you'll never get--MY ZOMBIE ARMY!
(zombie army emerges from shadows)
REX: Actually, I brought my own zombie army. COME ON OUT, FELLAS!
(nothing happens)
JOEY: HAHAHAHA!
REX: No! I'm doomed! Oh, if only I'd hired two zombie armies!
JOEY: Prepare to be--
REX: No wait--we both hired the same zombie army!
(zombie army looks confused)
JOEY: Really?
REX: We must have. See, here's my receipt.
JOEY: (examines Rex's receipt) Yep, I worked with Grughh too.
REX: Wow, we're really not as different as we thought.
JOEY: I guess not. Can we still be friends?
REX: Only if we're the best.
(Rex and Joey shake hands)
(zombie army converges on the agents, but they disappear in a burst of stardust)
(dragon swoops in and devours the zombies in a single bite, then flies away singing a song about how he wished he was an astronaut who didn't have to eat zombies to survive)

Mammoth-Killing Pentagon

Here's the letter I wrote back to the pentagon in response to his first letter:

Dear Pentagon,
You should at least try to come back. I imagine it's cold in the Ice Age, and you didn't take any sweaters with you or anything. Even if you didn't make it back to the present, you'd probably end up somewhere where they can give you a blanket. Also, I'm pretty sure you're not immortal, and even if you were, it's best not to put that to the test.

Sincerely,
Ben

And then, like right after I sent it, I got another response with this picture:


Dear Ben,
Thanks for your letter, though I am not quite sure how I received it. I appreciated your sentiment about the weather. As you can see from the picture, I made myself a robe of mammoth fur.

Which leads to my main reason for writing: I've joined a tribe of nomadic cavemen and have developed a taste for mammoth hunting. I believe that this is my calling, and I plan to stay here in this time to teach and aid my caveman brethren.

We will probably never see each other again. It would be best for you not to write, I think. We should just move on with our lives.

Sincerely,
Infinity Pentagon

Oh well. At least he won't freeze to death now.

Time-Traveling Pentagon

I was just staring at the pentagon for a few seconds, and then all of a sudden it disappeared. About a minute later I got this picture and a letter.


Here's the letter:

Dear Ben,
I decided to travel back in time. I'm in the Ice Age, apparently. It's pretty cool (get it?). Here's a picture of me with a woolly mammoth.

I don't know if I'll come back. It's kind of boring in your time. Here we have mammoths. Also, I don't know how to get back. Maybe you should have invented me with some sort of chronometer so I could control my time travel.

I'll probably see you again, though. I believe I'm immortal, but that has yet to be proven. Look over your shoulder--am I there? [He wasn't.]

Anyways, I hope you're not mad at me. But if you are, it's not like you can do anything about it.

Sincerely,
Infinity Pentagon

At least that was nice of him to send something. Still, I'll probably have to invent another time-traveling pentagon to find him and destroy him.

Pentagon

Check this out:


It's a pentagon, and it has five fives in it! It's like the infinity box of math! Five fives in a five-sided figure! You could think about the fives forever!

I'm pretty sure I just invented it.

This invention opens up many new possibilities. It will revolutionize our way of life. It will show us how to make more money. It will restore our self-confidence by beating up all the grade school bullies in the world. It will steal all the famous art from the famous art museums. It will travel through time. The only thing it won't do is turn us into animals or other shapes.

Look at it.

Or don't. Whatever.

Broken Showers

I woke up this morning as I usually do, trying to stir up some joy in my heart. And I headed up to the shower as I usually do, expecting a warm and comfortable start to the morning. Unlike usual, though, the shower didn't work. The faucet ran fine, but when I tried to switch it to the shower, it barely showered at all (though the faucet still ran fine).

A friend of mine once said that life blooms in its lack. The lack of sufficient water pressure in my shower this morning should prove that this statement is not true. In such a great lack, there was no bloom at all. I also lacked lunchmeat this morning, which means my sandwich is not blooming either.

Tomorrow I may have no water at all. I may have to wash myself in bleach. We'll see what blooms then, shall we? Assuming I survive, my money's on skin disease.

The Dog and the Restaurant: Part 3

Portland burst into tears. She realized now that she would never cease to smell like tacos, and therefore would very likely never hold a job in this world either.

"Don't cry, little doggie," Ben said.
"But now I'll never get a job."
"Come now, that's nonsense. A talking dog can get any kind of job he or she would want!"
"She."
"You're a she?"
"Yes."
"You don't sound like it."
"Do I sound like I eat garbage?"
"What?"
She started crying again.

Once she calmed down, Ben discovered that she came from Narnia. At first Ben was skeptical, thinking that this random computer-traveling, taco-smelling talking dog was some kind of promotion for the new Narnia movie. Portland promptly dismissed that idea by peeing on Ben's shirt.

"So why are you here?" Ben asked.
"I need to get a job," Portland replied. "No one would ever hire me because I smell like tacos."
"Not to mention you're a dog."
"Do people not hire dogs in your world?"
"I think maybe, but the economy's really bad, and nobody really likes tacos--"
"Could you help me find a job??!!"
"Um, well..."
"Oh great! Thank you, Aslan!"

After stops at several neighborhood Taco Bells that were not willing to hire a talking dog, Ben took Portland to the one Tex-Mex place where it would make perfect sense to see a dog working: Don Pablo's. Portland was hired the moment they walked into the restaurant.

"What kind of work can I do?" Portland asked.
"What do you think we'd have a talking dog do?" said the Don Pablo's manager. "Answer the phones!"

THE END.