Crispy Tales, Sherry and Her Lukewarm Ways

Disclaimer: This is merely an exercise to improve my knowledge and gain a better understanding of dudes and dudettes, the English language and what Louis Armstrong was on (about) when he wrote, sang and maybe hummed "What a wonderful world".

Thomas and the prolific Affenpinscher rocking the crispy Fruzetti columns with Zapiski Huckenbauer

Subtitle

Thomas had to crack some nuts. No bolts, just nuts. Nuthin’ out of the ordinary but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn't mind. Not even when Zapiski Huckenbauer bought the latest Affenpinscher at Zebranet, a small heavy-duty industrial power tools store in Milwaukee Williams traced him back to the age of nine, almost ten. He teamed up with some rebels. The Milwaukee Bliny and Beef Stroganov Publishers. Beef Stroganov actually secretly got published at the town hall and that is where the Linehan Fruzetti Institute of Biscuits columnists entered the story. Although they only worked on even weekdays (some of them just worked on sunny days between 10:00PM, 10:08PM and 10:09:23PM, yet none of their own ever passed judgement on their colleagues for working part time. They all were just fine with it.) they managed to write at least one column every quarter. Once it was finished, every column they published turned out to be golden. Well not actually golden or lukewarm aluminium like, but as a matter of speaking or writing. Life was good in wherever you want the Institute to be located.

But then the unthinkable happened. Somewhere on a steep mountain near 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, Cookietown Gretchen received the oddest thing she had ever seen in her mailbox. A singing parchment. It went like "My hump, my hump, my hump (ha), my lovely lady lumps (Check it out).". This called for Barlin's finest. She put on her hiking boots and off she went to Barlin (in those days there was a small village near the river Frankie Johnson where Garmen was the official language. Due to a dispute on the subject of intellectual property they had to change the name of the village previously known as Berlin to Barlin and to avoid further hassle they decided to change the name of the language to Garmen while they were at it. "Damned if we're gonna lose time dealing with shit like that." was what they all thought.). Bill Heinz got commissioned to decrypt and translate the mysterious chorus the parchment (they baptised it Boom Boom Pow and assigned a race and gender to it.) Boom Boom Pow kept reciting. Years went by and Billy spent countless hours trying to unveil the prophecy he felt the parchment that held Cookietown captive harboured within its fibers. He featured in so many panels discussing other singing parchments, erected booths to attract sponsors to pay for the research expenses, spoke with the elderly in the finest retirement homes in town, but he never seemed to even come close to decrypt the singing handwritten parchment, now going by the name of Paul Hardcastle.

Potato Salad days for Carl Bob Sean Baileys

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read the following if you want Bill to go on for a few more paragraphs without getting bored. Muti! Muti! Mein Buckel, mein Buckel, mein Buckel (ha), meine schöne Dame Klumpen (Check it out).

माईक played ball with Bucks Big

When Mike Barizona was born his parents had been out drinking late. The night before they had to register his name they went out for drinks and got completely wasted talking to some nice Marathi speaking folks. When it came to register his name they told the clerk they wanted to call him माईक Barizona, but they accidentally (well they were drunk, so accidentally-by-proxy) swapped the initials of the first and surname and the poor sod had to make the best of it skipping happily through life going by the name of Mike Barizona instead of माईक Barizona. His daddy Burt Barizona and mum Pia Zaridora met in a Kentucky Fried Chicken and immediately felt that special bond. They had something really special in common, namely their last name looked a bit alike. माईक now goes by the name of លោក Mike. Sorta the best of both worlds.

លោក Mike played ball. He played ball for the Hawthown Meths. Wasteball. Every week doc Davies Hopper hopped on in bearing weird looking hip flasks containing unique, distinct smelling fluids (some said bitter cherry, some never said a word.) and a huge Dodge Cummins 5.9L. One Cummins each. Good times! The doc filled them only halfway to prevent them from biting each other's pitching arm and to avoid hysteria he assured them it was a gut flora optimization measure. None of them smelled the roses, it was all just eggs and bacon to them anyway. And Benedict, the smelliest ball player on the team, left the scene months ago.

Now I don't know if you are familiar with the way wasteball gets played but I'm pretty sure you don't know the rules. They changed them every other day. Bucks sure made sure of that! Bucks Big, that was and is. Bucks, coincidentally also in charge of counting, came in early with a shovel and a weelbarrow. Bill, Murray, Johnny Cashville and Billy Bob T-Boner (the youngest Billy in town at that time) didn't give it a lot of thought. They reckoned he was stilll digging up those old Dodge Cummins' batteries. They didn't have a clue he was actually buying nuclear missiles whenever they won a game. He collected nuclear missiles. B. would hang them from the ceiling in his living room, got rid of every chair and replaced them with the missiles and yes… he even gift wrapped them and handed them out at weddings and bar mitzvahs. He liked to go like "You'll never guess what I bought you! Surprise!". Sometimes one of 'em would accidentally go off, but that would always happen when he was on his way back to check on the Hawthown Meths. One time he was looking over his shoulder while still in the cab on his way to the airport and went like "Hey, did you see that? Ha ha. That looks just like a giant mushroom!".

A small x with slender limbs. Sometimes even Garamond feels like (not in titles!).

"That's a tight crop!" She was looking for an entryway. Alex' Lighthouse had style. How she longed for a visit to the lighthouse! Not just a polite telephone visit. She applied for the position of visiting fellow. But she lied and filling out the application form she pretended to be line-art. And now she had to go out and find someone to perform line surgery so she was to enter the scene without disturbing the realm.

Arnold Benedict and the missing Epaulette (/ˈɛpəlɛt/; also spelled epaulet)[1], a type of ornamental shoulder piece or decoration used as insignia of rank by armed forces and other organizations. In several European armies epaulettes are also worn by all ranks of elite or ceremonial units when on parade.

Arnie was a bit of a rebel. He was engaged in naughty fight things in 1775 but it was not until 2001 the casting agency noticed the good man's talent. We knew Arnold hooked up with this loyal girl but racked up a lot of debt (his gf probably did not like this.) so we knew he'd probably agree to allow us to meet up with him at the local Taco Bell. We enjoyed a yummy waffle taco - sausage and a grande scrambler burrito steak during the most revealing interview ever aired in Traverse City, Michigan during the superbowl (Bad timing. Jenny isn't big on bowl, let alone superbowl.).

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Hi Arnold.

Arnold Benedict: Hi there.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: You look a bit tired.

Arnold Benedict: Well, you know when you reach my age things tend to get a little harder.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Oh.

Arnold Benedict: Yeah.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Hmmmm.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Want another drink?

Arnold Benedict: Nah.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Can you tell us a little more about the time you spent in Traverse City, Michigan?

Arnold Benedict: No dude.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Why not?

Arnold Benedict: I don't know dude. I just don't feel like it.

Florida Cracker Cuisine Guide: Listen buster, our readers want to know more about what happened during the American Revolutionary war. I demand some clarification on what it was that happened there. You gotta at least give me something. I mean... it's my ass on the line here. Just tell us what you had for lunch over there or what color undies you guys wore back in the day. Don't force me to publish the quick facts datasheet I got from this other dude who found it on the battlefield, cuz I will.

Next thing we know Arnie fell asleep and the only thing we heard him say was something like "Pfffeck oooooofffff", his wig came undone and both pistols he accidentally put in the wrong compartment of his pants pointing at his scrotum went off. We ended up having to publish the datasheet after all. As a bonus we did get an idea for a sidebar in the journal. A short article on compartment syndrome.

Ola Supermercado! Let's get Spanish!

France, Chili and Germany 1964. The obscure camera zooms in on Benny, a quantum physician assistant living in 3 countries and 2 continents at the same time, who was writing his twenty third thesis on soft southern rock bands led by Dennis Yost, mainly known for hits like Spooky, Stormy and Tracy released during the civil wars at Stanford University in uhm... 1964 (cfr Classics IV). Now I know you might think of hits as stuff pop musicians come up with in a desire to get real lucky and beautiful ladies (, or men if you prefer men, we do not discriminate here,) in the process. No no no! Back in 1962 (Ben had not yet discover Chili and maple sirup pancakes) he managed to get his hands on a few fancy sombreros and not every famous musician desires fame and fortune. Between february and intense love he experienced on March 6th (at 4AM right before he went for a wee) hits were believed to be the last resort should your wife or man misplaced your Apa type sword or carbine or a long arm but with a shorter barrel than a rifle or musket. Well... back in the day... way back.

Before the internet got harvested inside a gletcher

At dagger point Donna was to walk the plank and do 8 Rudolphs. A twist and a half! "Let's twist again, Donna! Like we forced you to do last summer at gun point!" they all went completely mad, talk about losing your mind! Kevin knew something was wrong. Donna never told him she met up with the bookaneers before, let alone last summer, but he kept to himself for now while he flipped his favourite bit coin, it landed head's up. "It's about time we had a talk, buster!" she said. It took Kev a while before those words went through the wires hidden deep underneath the skull to the processor already working overtime due to a ventilation issue in the basement.

Only a portion of them got the memo. The memo basically contained just four words: "Well hello there, kiddo.". Kev got upset and we had to comfort him. He never got anything right and would become very confused. Le Frey Mandelz had a long look, took a deep breath, took a look at the other faculty members and told Ben (Jamin, the youngest of two) to put on the kettle. "This is gonna be one of those very long nights.". Ben sighed. Last time they went on for 3 days in a row deciphering the previous memo. Shelley Powers had to provide extra bandwidth. "More bandwidth for the boat! We're gonna need a bigger kettle!". Shelley first hired the entire crew of the boat and the crew then hired her back. That was fun and they were in dire need of a bit of fun. After repeating the process six times everybody could chill for awhile. By that time Ben had finished singing and dancing. The kettle had to be entertained if they wanted him to provide them with hot beverages. Entertainment, black beans and distilled water (real picky bastard). The calcium levels went through the roof of the captain's cabin. Not exactly a pretty sight! "Slow down Brian. Your process these days is scrambling. People will come at you with everything they've got and we're fresh out of ice cream.". Ben got a little disoriented. Day dream on day 2! 2 days of memo staring. "Damned, Tulipfield!". Seventeen kettles. Skipping upstairs and downstairs, swinging the kettle (remember how he wanted to get entertained, right?), singing lullabies, nodding his head rhythmically and all the while slowly dying inside.

"A few in San Francisco perhaps. Just a few.". Day 3 brought us doughnuts shaped like Ben handing them over to the faculty members. Even those who contributed Jack S. got a mouthful. Jack S. got contributed on a regular basis. He was very reknowned, extremely accessible and popular at parties overconfident geezers and most of their Anglo-French peers held. Sociable, dynamic, active, innovative and blah. But what about sensitivity? Nobody home! Thing was, them being rather keen of dire straits, they expected bit coin for nuttin' and mouse clicks for free. March 7? Grandma's nuts in the tree are waiting, dude. And don't forget the scouting party, our browser agents. "It's pretty Basic. Assemble the languages! We needs to groups the troops!". Francis really got the meaning of tagging the corpses. His giant funnel-shaped device for amplifying and directing the voice of Keith Griffin was working overtime. "You're way over time! How did you manage to get in on time? The show is about to air.", Jen knew these kind of things and she went like: "Inheritance, my friend. Inheritance is key when it comes to waffles. Talk about meta. Go on! Gone? Already?".

They said that he was Cablovski (the Wild Cablovski and his seven lipizzaner stallions) but the name was Jim, not Maxwell "Hole in One and a Bogey" Greenfield!

Jim and Jean-Martin Cablovski were on the verge of a breakthrough. On the verge. James and Jean-MC were the founders of this hot new startup company. Jim's dad came up with this brilliant idea. His dad told him (Jim): "Hey Jim," because his name was Jim, "Jimmy, my son... Me and your pal Jean-Martin Huckney Kay Cablovski got together last Sunday and after the pot (roast) we treated ourselves to a fine brainstorm session on the patio. And you know what? We came up with this bulletproof business concept. We noticed the lippiz' don't get a lot of attention on the web and it would appear the state of despair (the kind that results in rash or extreme behavior) renders them depressed during hot summer nights. We thought you could write a web service to enable grandpa and the Wisconsin family to upload pictures of Black Betty, Spotted Geraldine and White Beauty. What do you reckon?" "Wel pops... I'm not really sure in terms of ROI, but I guess we could give it a shot, given the fact that we both do enjoy the promise of a decent pension plan.".

Maddy and grandpa are still alive and sweeping the floor today. A few days after Grandpa got appointed Chief Stallion Officer, hot damn! But he still managed to tend to the Lipperz. It took a while for the call to arrive given the long distance.

The one with the buddy in that country... hang on. You know... the one where they... Aussie land. That's it. The one with the buddy in Aussie land

Adelaide, 1972 and 2015. Early. Franz Early was staring at the ceiling. He always did that. Early in the morning, at noon and in the late night hours. Every 3 hours and seventeen minutes they brought him a fresh plate of ham and balony sandwiches, the kind that would make a regular bloke return the compliment splattered all over the floor... And milk. And there were no cows around. None. Not one. Really. Even if you tried to picture one, you wouldn't be able to find one. Franz Early will be back though! Staring at several ceilings at ones in this incredibly exciting sequel.

The return of Franz Early

Franz just got back. He promised he would be back.

Adelaide, 1973 and 2016. Early. Franz Early was staring at the ceiling. He always did that. Early in the morning, at noon and in the late night hours. Every 3 hours and seventeen minutes they brought him a fresh plate of ham and balony sandwiches, the kind that would make a regular bloke return the compliment splattered all over the floor... And milk. And there were no cows around. None. Not one. Really. Even if you tried to picture one, you wouldn't be able to find one. Good thing old Fletcher just got back from a painful visit to the loo - talk about rocks and having to take a wee every now and then - not very far from Franz's cabine.

They brought him the Courtroom Balad Steak but all he ever wanted was a salad

Salsa. The best Latin American legwork around. There wasn't much going on inside the head of Guy Plain, for a change. He did it for change. Loose change. Spare him. Hey! Why is the image tilted? I kinda like that... Digressing and enjoying every little bit.