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Wednesday, June 24, 2009

If you don't understand it, it's probably genius. -- PART 5

After a quick cigarette and another cheeseburger, we were off into the great unknown, to find the fabled lands of Montana...

"Not so fast!" shouted a voice from the darkness adjacent to the lighter area.

The voice was so familiar, I froze. I dropped my cigarette and my cold hands began to sweat. Kurt turned to me.

"Man, that voice is so familar", he said. "Do you have a hand towel I could use?"

"How about you just dry your hands on my blowtorch you alien sac of shit!"

And from the aforementioned darkness stepped Bearded Kurt Russell. And without hesitation, my vagina imploded and then rebuilt itself stronger and more potent than ever.

"You! Narrator! If you value your life, and your newly strengthened front bottom, and if you have any hopes of the real Kurt Russell peeing white into it, then step away from that alien duplicate of
me, the real Kurt Russell!"

"But...confused, too many K-Kurt Russells...bulging...", I stumbled at the sight of his excessive chin masculinity. 5 o'clock shaven Kurt Russell grabbed my arm.

"Don't listen to him! He's the alien! Look at the subtle blonde highlights peppered into my fashionably contructed mullet-hair! No alien could duplicate this so accurately!"

Bearded Kurt Russell shot a blast of hot fire into the air. "Enough! Ok! Ok! If you're not an alien, then you won't mind taking a little test to make sure!"

"Bring it!" 5 o'clock shaven Kurt Russell demanded.

"Alright! I'm going to shoot you with my blowtorch. If you start to burn, you're an alien. If you're truly Kurt Russell, your coating of chest sweat will repel the flames. I'll go second."

"Makes sense", I confirmed, and readied my camera phone.


Two shots screamed out of the darkness, catching both Kurt Russells in the head, exploding Kurt Russell brains all over the cheeseburger tree.

Hence the Big Mac was born.

I screamed, and turned to run. A voice came from the darkness. Again.

"Don't be a pussy."

And from the black stepped a figure dressed in It was Eye-patch Kurt Russell.

"They were both aliens. I'm the real Kurt Russell. Look." He pointed down at their bodies which were now just steaming piles of green diarrhea. He gently kicked one of the piles.

"See? It's not Kurt. It's imitation."

I prodded one of the piles with a stick and flung some of the green diarrhea at the cheeseburger tree. Now we had Whoppers.

"But how do I know if you're the
real Kurt Russell?"

He picked up the blowtorch and shot himself in the chest. The flames bounced right off.

"They were trying to get you to go to Montana, weren't they?"

"Yea! We need to find the Luddites! You see, after the internet blew-up, all the useless crap inside it, things like videos of dogs running into walls and peoples opinions, they all went into our heads and now we're having nightmares, and we have to---!"

"Slow down. Slow down. First of all, there aren't any more humans in Montana. They're all aliens. Those two were going to take you there so you could carry their alien babies. Good thing they didn't have a chance to have sex with you yet, seeing as how you just met them and all."

Hesitant, I responded.

"You're right! Good thing! After this though we definitely should celebrate and go eat some sushi. And push me down an escalator. You got a cigarette?"

"No. But I do have cigarellachinos. Mexican cigarettes. They're basically tacquitos, except you smoke them. Now, lets stop wasting time. We have alot to do before we stop the bad internet dreams."


The diarrhea carcass of Bearded Kurt Russell lunged at Eye-patch Kurt Russell. Eye-patch Kurt answered with a shotgun blast to the mouth.


"Now let's get the fucking fuck out of here..."


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