IllogiNews:Outer space turns into butter
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The New Age of Watermelons is nigh, according to the Beef Flinger prophecy made by Illogicopedia's village idiot.
This is represented by the extremely amazing mathematical formula
...thus turning outer space into butter.
When asked whether the planets will be able to continue rotating, even when their surroundings have become yellow and somewhat...not...malleable:
“Well, seeing as this graph right here is a piece of pie, jaundice will become commonplace among crazed beard monkeys. Also, the planets will continue to rotate.”
And there you have it. The planets will still move.
“Did I say that? I meant they would explode in a horrendous apocalypse involving a burlap sack full of minced armpit hairs.”
That sucks.
“Indeed it does.”
Indeed.
“Indeed.”
Boxers or briefs?
“Well, briefings are vital to a mission, especially the dangerous ones, whereas boxers are bloody-noised belligerents who fight because they're paid for it.”
My instrument of finger-pulling is borked. Suggestions?
“Soak the beard in grape juice for three days and three nights. The sun will then absorb the noxious vapors.”
How was your summer?
“Well, my vacuum cleaner exploded, and the resulting dust cloud bricked my Wii. And my computer. And my pants. And the neighbor's dog. And my pants. And the neighbor's dog. And my pants. And the neighbor's dog. And my nachos. And my burrito. And my taco. And the Taco Bell down the lane. And my beard. And my chest hair. And my extremely yellow yogurt. And my extremely blue nose. And my extremely pointless appendix. And my elbow. And my cow. And my farm. And my Lolwutermelon. And my stock market. And my Paralympics team. And the dome-shaped rock complete with functionless weather vane next door. And the giant Easter Island head next to that. And the giant pineapple next to that. And my python named Monty. And my big-ass Chevy Tahoe. And my Scion xB, which is a brick itself so we should not worry. And my Lamborghini Murcielago, which is not a brick, but is now bricked, thanks to the dust cloud, which also bricked my radio. And my luck, which was bricked to begin with. And my meatloaf, which LOOKED like a brick. Now it looks like custard. And my books, which are all SHAPED like bricks, but are now brickED. And my brick house, which is made out of bricks, but not brickED, as it is now. And my vacuum cleaner, which was bricked to begin with when it exploded, so the resulting dust cloud could not possibly have added to the magnitude of the damage, or bricking, suffered by said vacuum cleaner, which is responsible for the bricking of everything I previously named.”
And there we have it. This is 21 "I'll NEVER become an Illogicopedian of the Month at this rate" 655, first-time reporter on IllogiNews. I am made of banana mush.