Tuesday, March 08, 2005
RUN ON BLACK ICOR CAUSES PANIC
St. Paul. A run on supplies of precious Black Icor has caused supplies to dwindle and demand to soar in the Twin Cities area. According to local Red Cross workers, the metro wide shortage is due to the outbreak of Ebola, in the wild urban MacAlaster-Groveland neighborhood in St. Paul. Long known as a stronghold district for liberal degenerates who hate American and the family, it now also holds the distinction of containing the sole Ebola case in Minnesota.
All it took was just one case to create a shortage because, acording to one doctor, "When we get people in for the blood and plasma drives, we never ask for icor. We should, because in Ebola victims, they spurt out all their icor through their eyes and if we don't have compatible replacement icor, the only thing we can do to staunch the icor flow is poke out their eyes or perform a trans-orbital lobotomy."
The doctor explained that all humans are divided into several distinct icor groups: A, A+, O, O-, black, vanilla ice, cherry chocolate, sexy body chocolate, rocky road, and senile-colada.
While Black Icor, the type needed by the victim, is relatively common, all types of icor are only commonly stocked in equatorial rainforests, as opposed to arctic wastelands.
Is Ebola becoming a threat in Minnesota? "Probably not," said the doctor. What should one do if one has the virus? "Immediately seek shelter and do not eat monkey parts. Thats the worst thing you can do. I repeat, resist any temptation to eat diseased, slimy, monkey parts--even if they're ten days old at room temperature. That still won't do it! Also, once the vomiting starts, know that although it may seem like it will never end, it really won't. Recovery usually takes places once the stomach lining has been heaved up, along with the stomach, the colon, jejunum, lower intestine, and gall bladder. Sometimes the rectum might come up as well, but if that occurs just be patient and swallow it back. It will eventually settle back into place. The rest of the stuff can all be replaced by bags and tubes. Fuh-geddaboutit!"
The victim in question was a 29 yearold reporter who wishes not to be named, which will be easy to accomplish since he is writing this article about himself in the third person.
The victim is finally beginning to recover after 24 hour ordeal he aptly and articulately described as, "the sickest day in my life." Witnesses who saw him vomiting outside were shocked at the violence with which the victim fertilized nearby plants with his syrupy innards. A small child is even said to have wandered by, running away in primal fear upon seeing what seemed to be a deranged lunatic kneeling in sweatpants by the front door of her Nana'a house, moaning and drooling. But upon careful examination, it only turned out to be a deranged lunatic kneeling in sweatpants, moaning and drooling, and making little sense.
The child's security blanket, or "Bee" was tied to an iron railing at the time, and a steady breeze blowing through the Bee gave the reporter the impression that the Bee was a person who spoke to him. "Duh-don't worry about me. Ahhhhhh-rahhh-arr-arr-arrr-blahhhhhh. I'm okay, kay. Mmmm--ooop! Blahhhhhhhhhhhh-are!" the reporter remembers telling the Bee. Even though he had know idea who the Bee was, he was sure it was someone, someone other than the Bee. The Bee did not respond, but continued to happily wave back in forth in the sunny, unseasonable warm temperatures while the reporter nearly burst his spleen trying to spew forth bile and icor, his body hijacked by a plague come straight from H-E-double-hockey-sticks.
Other hallucinations followed, including: disorientation to place: inside felt like outside felt like inside. People constantly walking just out of the corner of his eye. Stomach contents looked like squirming maggots once hurled out. The talking (or listening) Bee.
Toward dusk, Lost Bird approached the reporter and asked, "how's it goin' big thunder?" to which the reported responded by firing the hershey squirts out of his rear end at a higher velocity than a frightened octopus shoots ink when faced with a predator. Then, he replied, "yeah man, its goin'."
Later on, the reporter was nursed back to health with the aid of chocolate soy milk, 1/2 a ritz cracker, 2 extra strenth tylenol, 3 tylenol 3, 2 flexaril, and a bath from a blonde.
A medical expert was quoted for this story, saying, "yeah, ain't nuthin' a few codeine n' flexaril and a bath from a hot blonde won't cure." Damn right.
The reporter wished to thank all those who supported him (or put up with him) through the ordeal. He is mending well, though his bowels remain irritable and squirty. He has promised to lobby the Minnesota congress to raise awareness of the need to donate icor.
All it took was just one case to create a shortage because, acording to one doctor, "When we get people in for the blood and plasma drives, we never ask for icor. We should, because in Ebola victims, they spurt out all their icor through their eyes and if we don't have compatible replacement icor, the only thing we can do to staunch the icor flow is poke out their eyes or perform a trans-orbital lobotomy."
The doctor explained that all humans are divided into several distinct icor groups: A, A+, O, O-, black, vanilla ice, cherry chocolate, sexy body chocolate, rocky road, and senile-colada.
While Black Icor, the type needed by the victim, is relatively common, all types of icor are only commonly stocked in equatorial rainforests, as opposed to arctic wastelands.
Is Ebola becoming a threat in Minnesota? "Probably not," said the doctor. What should one do if one has the virus? "Immediately seek shelter and do not eat monkey parts. Thats the worst thing you can do. I repeat, resist any temptation to eat diseased, slimy, monkey parts--even if they're ten days old at room temperature. That still won't do it! Also, once the vomiting starts, know that although it may seem like it will never end, it really won't. Recovery usually takes places once the stomach lining has been heaved up, along with the stomach, the colon, jejunum, lower intestine, and gall bladder. Sometimes the rectum might come up as well, but if that occurs just be patient and swallow it back. It will eventually settle back into place. The rest of the stuff can all be replaced by bags and tubes. Fuh-geddaboutit!"
The victim in question was a 29 yearold reporter who wishes not to be named, which will be easy to accomplish since he is writing this article about himself in the third person.
The victim is finally beginning to recover after 24 hour ordeal he aptly and articulately described as, "the sickest day in my life." Witnesses who saw him vomiting outside were shocked at the violence with which the victim fertilized nearby plants with his syrupy innards. A small child is even said to have wandered by, running away in primal fear upon seeing what seemed to be a deranged lunatic kneeling in sweatpants by the front door of her Nana'a house, moaning and drooling. But upon careful examination, it only turned out to be a deranged lunatic kneeling in sweatpants, moaning and drooling, and making little sense.
The child's security blanket, or "Bee" was tied to an iron railing at the time, and a steady breeze blowing through the Bee gave the reporter the impression that the Bee was a person who spoke to him. "Duh-don't worry about me. Ahhhhhh-rahhh-arr-arr-arrr-blahhhhhh. I'm okay, kay. Mmmm--ooop! Blahhhhhhhhhhhh-are!" the reporter remembers telling the Bee. Even though he had know idea who the Bee was, he was sure it was someone, someone other than the Bee. The Bee did not respond, but continued to happily wave back in forth in the sunny, unseasonable warm temperatures while the reporter nearly burst his spleen trying to spew forth bile and icor, his body hijacked by a plague come straight from H-E-double-hockey-sticks.
Other hallucinations followed, including: disorientation to place: inside felt like outside felt like inside. People constantly walking just out of the corner of his eye. Stomach contents looked like squirming maggots once hurled out. The talking (or listening) Bee.
Toward dusk, Lost Bird approached the reporter and asked, "how's it goin' big thunder?" to which the reported responded by firing the hershey squirts out of his rear end at a higher velocity than a frightened octopus shoots ink when faced with a predator. Then, he replied, "yeah man, its goin'."
Later on, the reporter was nursed back to health with the aid of chocolate soy milk, 1/2 a ritz cracker, 2 extra strenth tylenol, 3 tylenol 3, 2 flexaril, and a bath from a blonde.
A medical expert was quoted for this story, saying, "yeah, ain't nuthin' a few codeine n' flexaril and a bath from a hot blonde won't cure." Damn right.
The reporter wished to thank all those who supported him (or put up with him) through the ordeal. He is mending well, though his bowels remain irritable and squirty. He has promised to lobby the Minnesota congress to raise awareness of the need to donate icor.
