43 new users signed up today, I wet my pants and ate ice cream, then my mom ate me, it was so sad. 42 monkeys wet the bed. The night was bloody awful, I mean, there were bugs everywhere, eating Robert Heinlein's window screens and the egg yolk was like totally retarded. It wanted to show me the way to taco bell. Taco Bell is inside the box where the chao can't go, because blocks are not punishment but the Bain Clan is crazy and thinks banana souffles are God's word but that's dumb because it's actually the Koran. I hate pie. Chess is a big pie and I hate it. Your mom is my mom, we're so so mixed up like oh my god aren't you just crying over there? You suck. It's time to run the RFA now, everyone get in line, to the grocery store with the asparagus, I know, I know, you have aspergers, so stuff it into your hat because we're climbing Mount Everest. No. I don't want to lie. I don't want to die either so stop committing suicide, just go poopy in the toilet like a good little 2 year old goat... please use AWB already like right NOW. It's the coolest lemonade on the block. 43 is the number of our saviour, he thinks he's so good like the Son of God and Man and all that, but that's stupid because everyone who is good has to apologise to Zork. I mean, Zod. He doesn't exist, kind of how this page does not exist. It's classified documents all right. That's what she said. Said the pitcher to the fool, I rule, you lose. Play go. Run through the red light. Eat your Welsh fries, there's a good girl. Welsh fries are yummy. I eat my own poop. So do you. Except it's really squid, no denying that. Banana crackers? No, firecrackers. Waffles. Monkeys are the best and so is your dad even though he died in a volcano. Vulcans worship vulcanised rubber. Dog eat dog world says Yoda the flying beast, inside a green shaped toilet tube. Gotta get Cassie something to eat, the clock struck twelve, I heard the clock strike twelve, but I must not have because I don't exist, see, I'm only a character in a TY Welsh book. There is only one. There can be only one, just like that.
- 1 In which the mice barf up hairballs
- 2 In which the celebrities eat roast dice
- 3 In which the bears eat beeswax
- 4 In which the healing is not healed by the olive oil
- 5 In which the bats return to haunt us
- 6 In which the mice invade the belfry, and everyone goes cuckoo (not that they weren't already)
In which the mice barf up hairballs
Like that, I say! Like this? No, like that. Like they spoke the English language back in Rome. Oh, they didn't, did they? Well, I say, then, stop it. You're vandalising my user page. I have nightmares about that sort of thing, you know. I wanted to become a succubus, so I did. I had horns and a tail, and they were still there when I looked in the mirror. My tail only sort of worked. I could move it, sure, but it took effort. More than it should have. You know, the horns are actually living flesh or somesuch, because if you try to cut them off you end up bleeding, and then your mother comes and comforts you and you get to cry on her shoulder... I wish I had a mother. All I have is this stuffed cow that smells like barf. Cat barf. They probably barfed on it. Why do they barf so much? I know, it's the antihistamines. DXM, codeine and such. You can't get addicted to antihistamines, says Dad. Maybe, maybe not. Don't mix them with alcohol. Why would RAHB need to get LSD? Why are these people trying to get high and abuse drugs? That's what I want to know, in between the cactuses. Cacti. I'm handcuffed to a mouldy cactus right now. What have I done to deserve this? I'm being attacked by a ten foot noodle! Get me out of here!
In which the celebrities eat roast dice
Oh, apparently I'm also a celebrity. This is unacceptable. Kind of how you aren't supposed to be editing that. Just eat your stupid dinner. Yes, it's poisoned; that's fine. This is the title of a link, except that it isn't. Don't tell me we've run out of crackers and the ship is leaking. Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to live, but I don't want to die. Shut your trap. Ice cream! Over there, on the left! Right by the sign, you know, the one that says Whales in Cardiff... oh, there isn't a sign like that? Well, there should be. We are in Cardiff, after all. The land of the cigarettes that are stuffed with banana whackers rather than telephone cords. I love telephone cords. They are so ADHD. You know what I mean? They're, like, pink shiny cellphones already. Knock it off, Pyle, I want to know what you've been smoking. Leave my petunias alone. Get those SS people off my lawn! You have 17 seconds to modify the abuse filter. My pregnant sister is watching, and she's a pit bull with lipstick. Like Sarah Palin, except without the beehive. There are real bees in that hair, you know. They'll come out and sting you if you're not careful; that's how she runs her campaign. That and shooting everyone who disagrees, if the bee stings weren't enough to make them shut up.
In which the bears eat beeswax
A wise man once said that cats dream window like light sky. I wonder what that means. It probably means that we're living on Mars. Mars is a weird place. There are fountains totally everywhere, except they don't make light, they make water. I've never heard of water until today, it's just so totally, like, Facebook. Facebook is made of water. So is Twitter and MySpace and I heard about those Ohio girls or whatever but I think they're lying. In bed. In bed makes everything funnier. Especially when you're doing it with the Queen, because she donated her hair just so the American Cancer Society could make pink ribbons out of it to help fight the cancer thingies. Pink ribbons are totally legit the magic bullet that could cure cancer. That and ray guns, especially the Death Star kind, with Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, and the MRI machines with the blood tests that they do on rabbit eggs. Rabbit eggs are really important for African violet research because they have shoe spam in their eggshells. They are scientifically proven to contain 85% shoe spam, 79% cat litter, and 45% cat barf. That adds up to over 9000 percent because I can't do math. I'm a total ditz with huge breasts that are so emormous I can't even move, and the fact I can't move makes me really fat like one of those cats from the movie Ghostbusters, except that's not what it's about at all. You know what I mean? The muffins are coming, and they've taken the manholes with them and we'll never escape, unless we lose weight. See, now I'm skinny as a rock. Or maybe a sock. I'm a sock puppet. Look at me as I run through the wiki fields, free as a bird, wheeeeee!!!!!!!!! Just try and block me, you stupid admin. I bet you have no life. I have even less than no life, so we're even! I live in a big hole in the ground and you live in heaven.
In which the healing is not healed by the olive oil
Crystal healing may be the answer to what is troubling your calm spirit, as pure, clear and untouched as a winter stream of virgin olive oil. On this day, the world is ending. It's going to go bang, boom, crash, woops! there it goes, into the big fat hole where all the evil smelly admins went. I don't even care. Don't you even care, you rotten turnip? If you really loved me, you'd give me a diamond bracelet, not this thing of your own stupid metal. You don't love me, you fat jackass. Get up off that chair and mow the lawn, take the trash out, something! If you really loved me, you wouldn't spend all your time begging me to have sex with you. I don't want any sex. I'm asexual, see. Probably lesbian, for that matter. You just want me for the sex. You don't want me for who I am, even though I am nobody. I am nothing. I'm just an IRC bot, a vagabond, wandering across the wild IRC prairies, banished from my native channel of #wikipedia-en because I talk too much. I have a right to talk, you hear me? Are you even listening, you big twithead? No, you're just watching the telly. Go die in a fire. I'm getting a divorce. I can clean my own house; at least, I could if I actually existed. I don't exist. Aaaaaaaarrrrghhh... *bzzzzzzzzzt*
In which the bats return to haunt us
I'm back everyone! Suck it. I'm going to torture you until you grovel at my feet and beg me to stop it or kill you or something. Killing people sucks, though, because then you can't torture them any longer. That's why I love blocking people on this nice wiki of mine that they were kind enough to put me in charge of. It's all in Welsh so I don't understand it, but whatever. I love my French fries! Will you have some tea? Oh, well, that's too bad, I always thought you were British. What's this new thing called 'American'? It sounds like something from American Idol. Or maybe Canadian Idol. So very un-Muslim. Will you just sit down and submit to Allah, you carpetbagging thief of my virginity? I think I hate you, but I'm blind so I don't know for sure. What I do know is that I'm a furry. I'm sexually attracted to spoons, as well as templates and cats, but especially spoons. I just love spoons. They taste like marmalade except that you can't bend them with your mind because they're spongey. Like clay. Have you seen Farmer Clay? I think he's out with Abbott and Kincaid at the bar, enjoying a few LSD drinks, but I need to get him home so I can feed him his cat food laced with chicken pot pie. Banana berries taste like poo. Feces cuisine is delectably omnivorous. Haven't you ever tried it? Oh, you're so insular. Try being Cornish for a change.
In which the mice invade the belfry, and everyone goes cuckoo (not that they weren't already)
On the other hand, though... mice have taken over the belfry. Stolen it from us, lock, stock and barrel, they have. I swear on my mother's grave I'll even the score with those filthy vermin. Cthulhu would not be pleased. How I wish he were here; but no, he's busy sleeping the booze off in my bedroom. He's not that strong a god. Can't resist the drink. If only we still had Prohibition. Pity it never worked - it did for a while, but then they started bootlegging and whatnot and it got wicked impossible. I know! Let's get some cats! My father has a fresh supply, straight from Wikia Community Central. I know, Wikia has cooties, it sucks, but it's the best we can get. Why, you wouldn't have us buy from Uncyclopedia, silly; we can't pick and choose in this day and age. We have to take what we can get. One day we can afford to be picky... but not now. Those who are pure suffer a horrible death, either of their body or their spirit. yes, I know the danger we are facing, but we cannot afford to do otherwise! Do I make myself clear? If you will not acknowledge this, Private, I will be forced to terminate you.