The Incredible Adventures of Melville Amsterdam and the Collapsible Ironing Board: PART TWO
- 1 Chapter One: A Disturbing Decision
- 2 Chapter Two: A Disturbing Incision
- 3 Chapter Three: A Disturbing Precision
- 4 Chapter Four: A Disturbing Smidgeon
- 5 Chapter Five: A Disturbing Pidgeon
- 6 Chapter Seven: A Disturbing Midget
- 7 Chapter Eight: A Disturbing Fidget
- 8 Chapter Nine: A Disturbing Widget
- 9 Chapter Nine: A Disturbingly Repeated Chapter Number
- 10 Chapter Eleven: A Disturbingly skipped chapter number
- 11 Chapter Thirty-Five:A Disturbingly stupid way of naming chapters
- 12 Chapter Thirty Six: A Disturbingly incorrect grammatically title
- 13 Chapter Thirty seven: A disturbing urge to give names to your own bowel movements
- 14 Chapter Forty-Two: A Disturbing...Are you gonna eat that, Daphne?
- 15 Chapter Fifty: A disturbing gratefulness that this episode is over because I can't think of any more chapter names
Chapter One: A Disturbing Decision
Melville, his mother, and his collapsible ironing board had been traveling the world in their oil tanker for eight months. And when I say they'd been "traveling the world" I mean that Melville had put his mother's skeleton at the steering wheel of their oil tanker, and she had promptly tipped over, pulling the steering wheel to one side, so that the ship was going around the same 20 foot circle over and over again. But Melville didn't notice, he was busy having an endless honeymoon with his newfound love: the ironing board.
Then, one day, 11 months after their voyage started, the boat abruptly came to a halt. Melville climbed out of the bathtub in which he and his ironing board had been fornicating, and yelled, "WHAT HAPPENED? WHY DID WE STOP? MOM?"
He climbed up on deck, where he saw his mother's skeleton lying under the steering wheel. "Lying down on the job," he said frustratedly, and he picked her up and threw her overboard.
"Whoops," he said, watching her sink to the icy depths below, "I suppose I shouldn't have done that...oh well." He shrugged, and picked up an empty beer can and drew a smily face on it. "Hello, mother!" he said, enthusiastically smiling at the can.
He decided to call a meeting of the ship's crew so they could decide what to do next. He got on the ship's intercom and started bellowing, "All crew members assemble on deck! All crew members assemble on deck!" he did this for several hours before remembering that his wife, the ironing board, typically had trouble moving on her own, so he went downstairs to get her.
"Okay," he said, pacing back in front of the ironing board and his mother, "We've got a dilemma. Apparently, the ship's run out of gasoline. We're stranded out here in the middle of the ocean. We have nothing to eat, and nothing to drink apart from this syrupy stuff." He picked up a large can marked "GASOLINE" and chugged it, before continuing, "I'm afraid the only way we're gonna survive is through...*gulp*...cannibalism!"
He had expected his mother and the ironing board to be shocked by this revelation, but to his shock, neither of them reacted. He shrugged.
"So, there's only one thing for it! We'll have to decide which of us will sacrifice himself, or herself, so that the other two can live?" Neither the can nor the ironing board seemed eager to volunteer. This decision was going to be tougher than he thought.
Chapter Two: A Disturbing Incision
After several seconds of thought, Melville decided that they would draw straws, and whoever got the short straw would be killed and eaten. "Now the only question is," he thought out loud, "Where are we gonna get straw?" Then he saw it. Thirty huge boxes were sitting on the deck, all of them marked "Fresh bread."
"That's it!" he yelled, as he ran over to the boxes. He opened up the first one, and, sure enough, it was filled to the top with fluffy, white, seeded bread loaves. "I'm a genius!" he bellowed at the empty beer can, as he pulled a loaf of bread out of the box. "This bread has seeds in it!" he said triumphantly, "So, we can take the seeds out of the bread, then plant the seeds, wait for them to grow into...grass, or whatever, then kill them, so they turn into straw! Then we can draw straws with them, and whoever gets the short straw has to get killed, cooked, and eaten! It's the perfect plan!"
He crushed the bread, pulled out two or three seeds, and threw it overboard. Soon, the entire deck was covered in seeds that he had pulled from the bread, and the waters surrounding the boat were filled with waterlogged bread loaves.
"Excellent!" said Melville, "Now all we need is some soil to plant the seeds in!" He saw a large pot containing an apple tree, which was full of huge, ripe, glistening apples. He ripped the tree out of the pot and threw it overboard, then started diligently burying each of the seeds in the dirt, one at a time. "Now," he said, "We just wait a year or so for the seeds to grow!" He sat down, staring at the pot. Five minutes later, he was desperately bored.
Chapter Three: A Disturbing Precision
After ten minutes, Melville heard something. It was a man's voice. "Hey! Anyone there? HEY!" Melville stood up, said to his mother "Watch the seeds," and walked over to the side of the boat. There, floating in the water was a half-submerged police car, with an obese man with a 4 foot long beard (with several dead fish tangled inside it) standing on top of it. He saw Melville. "Thank God!" the man screamed, "A human being!"
The man climbed up onto the oil tanker. "Who are you?" said Melville.
"Officer Vernie Cauliflower Ostrich Eggs Basketcase," said the man, "But most people just call me Toaster. Not sure why."
"Well, hello, Toaster," said Melville, "I'm Butch. NO! Scratch that, Butch is my sister. I'm always getting the two of us confused. My name's Melville. Melville Amsterdam. I can't help but notice that you have several fish in your beard."
"Oh, yeah. I eat them occasionally."
Melville said, "Excellent! We can use them to water the seeds!" He plucked all of the fish out of Toaster's beard, and squeezed them grotesquely over the seeds. Several drops of putrid sea water droozled out of each fish. Then, after wringing them all out, Melville threw them overboard.
Chapter Four: A Disturbing Smidgeon
"So..." said Melville, "What brings you to the middle of the ocean?"
"I'm not really sure," said Toaster, "I was on my way to Nebraska and got a little lost. I keep checking my map," he pulled out a map drawn in crayon with two blobs on it, one labelled "ocean" and the other "Nebraska", "But it's not helping much. I'm still hopelessly lost."
The police officer paused, and finally took notice of his surroundings: the empty bread boxes, the pot with the seeds in it, the empty beer can with a face drawn on it, the empty gasoline cans, the ironing board, and the dead bodies that were strewn across the deck. "Uh," said Toaster, "What's with the dead people?"
"Why are there dead people all over the ship?"
"Oh, because I killed them," said Melville conversationally.
"ALL OF THEM?"
"Well, I killed most of them. That one," said Melville, pointing at one of the bodies, "Was killed by a bacterial infection the day after I shot him."
Toaster drew himself up importantly. "That's illegal!"
Melville thought fast, then said, "No it isn't."
"Oh," said Toaster, "Sorry. My mistake. But still, why did you kill them? And steal this boat?"
Melville gave a lovestruck sigh, and pointed at the ironing board. "Because of her."
Toaster suddenly remembered his common sense. He was obviously dealing with a criminal. "Ma'am," he said, taking out his gun and pointing it at the ironing board, "It is my duty as a police officer to place you under arrest."
"NOOOO!" screamed Melville, "WHY?"
"Because she caused the murder of all these people!" said Toaster. "Hands up, lady," said the officer.
"She doesn't have hands!" said Melville.
"Oh, yeah," said Toaster, "That is a dilemma, isn't it? I know! Let's make some hands out of cardboard, and tape them to her!"
"Okay!" said Melville.
Chapter Five: A Disturbing Pidgeon
Melville and the officer set to work. An hour later, they had two cardboard hands taped to the ironing board, both of them raised.
"Now I don't have handcuffs, so let's just pretend I do," said Toaster, and he pretended to put handcuffs on the cardboard hands, loudly yelling "CLICK!" as he did so.
"Okay, you have the right to remain silent," he said to the ironing board.
"Oh, she won't!" said Melville, "She's really quite a chatterbox!"
"Is that so?" said Toaster, "Anyway, we should probably get going before it gets much later in the story. The Illogicopedia readers must not be dissapointed."
Chapter Seven: A Disturbing Midget
Melville was shocked by this statement. "Illogico-what?" he said, perplexed.
"Illogicopedia!" said Toaster. "You've never heard of the Illogicopedia conspiracy theory?"
"Oh. Well, actually, I'm not that suprised. There are only three people who believe in the theory, and two of them are dead now. I AM THE LAST REMAINING BELIEVER!"
"What the heck is Illogico...pee? Pedia?"
"Our entire world is not real," said Toaster, lifting his arms impressively so they indicated the boat and the surrounding sea, "You and I, we don't really exist. We were created in the mind of some random person, who my calculations reveal probably has a name that's either TEH, THTE, or CHESTER THE WALNUT AND HIS TRAVELING NAKED MOLE RAT TAMERS. I'm not sure which name is right, but that's not important. The point is that we are merely whisps, flights of fancy, part of a story in an article on a website on the internet called illogicopedia. We are merely images in the mind of whoever happens to be reading this story. We're part of an article on a website, I tell you! Our entire world!"
"You're a lunatic," said Melville, "If this was a story, bizarre, random things would be happening all the time! And I'd have no free will!"
"YOU DON'T!!!!11" bellowed Toaster, flapping his arms maniacally, "Your destiny is planned out already! All the choices you make have been pre-planned! You are ignorant of my theory! You have no knowledge of TEH!"
"Whatever man," said Melville, "Either way, shouldn't we be moving along?"
"Quite right," said Toaster, "I should be taking the ironing board to prison," and he picked up the ironing board.
Chapter Eight: A Disturbing Fidget
They climbed down onto the floating police car. Melville had several spoons with him. "We can use these as paddles!" said Melville. And so, they each took a spoon, and started flapping in the water with the spoons. Two months later, they were 40 feet away from the boat, and Melville said, "Oh no! I forgot my mother!"
So, they spent another two months paddling back to the boat, and when they got there, Melville said, "Oh, wait, never mind. She's here in my pocket."
And so, they set back out into the sea. But the long time that Melville and Toaster had spent together was starting to take its toll. They had nothing to do other than to argue about Toaster's Illogicopedia conspiracy theory.
"It can't be true!" said Melville, "This water is wet. Look at the sky. The clouds. It's all so detailed! So real! This is the real world! I have an entire lifetime worth of memories!"
"Nonetheless, none of it exists. Or rather, it does exist, but as an image in the mind of the reader who is reading this conversation."
"Reader? What reader? This is nonsense! Why would anyone want to read about this?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm just an incidental character. But the fact is that this is nothing but an article. If the reader were to click "random page," our entire world would go *poof* into oblivion, and they would land on something completely different. Likewise, the reader could click "go insane" and completely change our world around. Make it so we both die instantly. Make a giant shark pop up out of the water and eat us both, then turn into a gerbil and barf us both back up. The point is that we aren't really in control. We think we are, of course, because if we knew we weren't, it would make for a rather uninteresting story."
Melville had had enough. He couldn't stand listening to this rambling, mystic nonsense any further. "Illogicopedia," Melville said, "Gimme a break!" He shoved Toaster off the police car into the water.
Chapter Nine: A Disturbing Widget
"Oh my God!" screamed Toaster, "I'm drowning! I'm drowning! I'm--wait a second! This water is only 2 feet deep!"
Melville looked down, and sure enough, the water was extremely shallow. As it turns out, they had only been 100 feet away from a beach resort the whole time.
"HA!" screamed Melville, "We're saved! Honey, we're saved!" He kissed the ironing board passionately.
"Not so fast," said Toaster, "First of all, we're only saved because the writer wanted to use comedic irony. He might just as well have decided to make this a tragedy, in which case we'd both end up dying of thirst or something equally tragic and unpleasant to read about. You'd better just be glad that TEH is in a good mood today. And secondly, don't go kissing that ironing board. Remember, she's under arrest!"
Toaster and Melville trudged up on shore with the ironing board, passing several obese swimmers. They left the police car out in the water, where it generating a large ring of oil. "Look, Herbert!" said one obese woman, "The water over there is so shiny! Maybe it has healing powers!" She started smearing it all over herself.
"See, did you see that woman?" said Melville, "She has a life of her own. All of those people had lives of their own. How could this possibly just be an article on a website?"
"Oh, it is," said Toaster, "And that woman merely served as more comedic irony. A momentary incidental character, with perhaps some politically satirical symbolism with the "bathing in oil" analogy. With a mere click of the "edit" button and another click of the "delete" button, she could be completely wiped from existence. Ah! The police station! We're here!"
Chapter Nine: A Disturbingly Repeated Chapter Number
And so, Toaster took the ironing board into the station, where she was locked in a high security cell with two marines armed with bazookas guarding it. "I'll be at the trial, watching it," said Toaster, "I wouldn't miss the dramatic climax of this article for anything! See ya in court, Melville Amsterdam!" Toaster wandered off, leaving Melville perplexed. He pulled his mother the beer can out of his pocket.
"Well this is just awful," he said to her, "My wife's in prison, and I don't have any money left! I spent it all on those planes and bazookas! How am I supposed to hire a lawyer?" The can was silent. Melville took this to mean, "You'll have to learn to be a lawyer yourself."
And so, Melville set to work. He had two weeks before the trial. Two weeks to learn how to be a lawyer. "Well, I'll have to look like one first, I suppose," he said, walking down the street and talking animatedly to the beer can, frightening several of the passersby, "So I'll have to get a tie."
He ran into a local clothing store. "Give me a tie!" he screamed at a mannequin that was on display in the store. It didn't move. He punched it, sending its head flying across the room. Then he saw it. A scarf, sitting on a shelf. He thought it looked enough like a tie, so he took it off the shelf and left a stick in its place, hoping nobody would notice the difference.
Chapter Eleven: A Disturbingly skipped chapter number
He spent the next week and a half attempting to tie the scarf around his neck. He finally decided to simply tape it to his chin, and he did so. Then, he realized he only had a few days left before the trial began. He didn't know anything about law!
So he ran to a local book store. "Okay," he said frantically to the woman behind the counter, "Do you have any books about being a lawyer?"
"You mean, like, Learning to be a lawyer at the last possible second so you can save your wife, who is a household appliance, from being arrested, for Dummies?" said the woman.
"Yeah!" said Melville, "That would be perfect!"
"Well, we just sold our last copy of that this morning," said the woman, "It's selling like hot cakes. I do have Dating for Dummies though."
"That's close enough!" said Melville, and he grabbed the book and ran off.
He decided to memorize the book, cover to cover. After three days, he had only memorized the first couple words on the copyright page. When the day of the trial finally rolled around, he had memorized the full copyright page and the table of contents, but when he realized it was the day of the trial, he was so scared he promptly forgot it all. He quickly shoved Dating for Dummies into his backpack, taped the scarf to his chin, and sprinted off towards the courthouse.
Chapter Thirty-Five:A Disturbingly stupid way of naming chapters
He burst into the room and bellowed "She's INNOCENT!!!!!"
A man turned to him and said, "What are you talking about? This is a grocery store!"
"DAMMIT! Wrong building!!!" Melville tore out of the grocery store and ran to the courthouse. He arrived just in time. The court case had just started.
"Okay, the next case is, the state of Georgia vs. the Collapsible Ironing Board," said the judge, "Would the prosecutor like to make an opening statement?"
The prosecutor nodded. He was a very elderly man, with very little hair and a walker. He stood up, shook violently, and coughed. Several of his teeth popped out. "Never," said the prosecutor, "In all my time in Delaware..."
"You mean Georgia?" said the judge.
"Right, Orgy," said the prosecutor, "Never, in all my time here being a plumber--"
"GIVE ME A BREAK!" screamed a voice from the crowd. Melville looked around. It was Toaster. He was standing up, and looking outraged.
"This is ridiculous," said Toaster, "You call this prosecutor an imposing antagonist? What kind of plot buildup is this? I spent a good 6 months of my time, at LEAST, paddling back and forth with Melville and his Ironing Board as a means of building up dramatic tension, and a backdrop to the inherent plot of the sequel, that being the Law coming between him and his Ironing Board. But now THIS? Come on! What kind of climactic build up of dramatic is that? I'm supposed to be the secondary antagonistic figure in this story, followed by the evil prosecutor! Come on! The prosecutor should be big! Muscular! Imposing! Sane!"
The prosecutor started drooling.
"He should at least be young," said Toaster, "Honestly, come on! What kind of backwards plot device is that? A senile prosecutor? Is TEH, the creator of all of us characters, a bad writer?"
"This is quite irritating," said the judge.
"And what about YOU?" screamed Toaster, pointing at the judge, "Your'e supposed to be some big, imposing guy, who says menacing things that call the court to order in times of disorder and chaos! The strong leader at the head of the room, who can unite it in times of division, an image symbolic of all American policies! The great leader at the forefront! The Abraham Lincoln of the courtroom! 'This is quite irritating'? What kind of weak-ass dialogue is THAT?"
"ENOUGH!" bellowed the judge, "Officer, have this insolent, disrespectful man EXECUTED!" The police officers advanced on Toaster.
"Hey, now that's more like it!" said Toaster, "Yeah, I like it, I really do! It shows your strength and authority, and also has an undertone of slight irony and some mild political commentary in that your leadership and determination to enforce order can border on dictatorship! Yeah, I'm really diggin' your symbolism there, judge!"
The policemen seized Toaster. "Wait a second," said Toaster, "I'm being killed off? What is this? I know the true nature of the universe! I know we were all created for the sake of entertaining the readers of Illogicopedia! Why would TEH want to kill me unless--" A look of horror came upon Toaster's face, "--unless I'm disrupting the story! OH, THAT'S IT! Oh, how TRAGIC! It's so IRONIC! I've been disrupting the poetic flow of the hero's journey with my extended soliloqueys in the middle of the climactic action sequences, so I'm being removed from the story!"
"Would you please shut up?" said the judge irritably, but Toaster wasn't through.
"Oh, TEH, have mercy!" he bellowed, "I know I insulted your storytelling method, and broke the profanity rule of your sight when I said 'weak-ass dialogue,' but please don't kill off my character! I'm the last remaining advocate of illogicopedia theory! If I'm killed off, who's to spread the word? Who's to tell the people the truth--that they are merely characters in a fictional epic? And if you must kill me, at least give me the honor of an on camera death! Don't just let these guys drag me out like--" at that moment, Toaster had a violent heart attack.
Chapter Thirty Six: A Disturbingly incorrect grammatically title
"Good lord," said the judge, "What was all that about? Anyway, prosecutor, you may finish your opening speech." The prosecutor, however, had fallen asleep. The judge asked Melville if he wanted to make an opening statement. Melville stood up, feeling nervous.
"My client is innocent....uh..." He opened Dating For Dummies frantically, "And uh, I'd like to make the following statement, for the record: Copyright 2000, a Random House book."
"Um...okay..." said the judge. "Do you have a witness?"
"Yes!" bellowed Melville, "My mother has known the ironing board almost as long as I have! We've been through a lot together, the three of us."
Melville pulled the beer can out of his pocket and put it on the witness stand. He opened Dating for Dummies to the first page. "Um," he said, "Do you come here often, baby-cakes?" he said to the can. It was silent.
"Objection!" bellowed the elderly prosecutor.
"On what grounds?"
"Uuuuuh...I forget...something about...turnips?" said the old man feebly.
"Go back to sleep, you old hag," said the judge, as he hammered his gavel impressively, "Continue with your questioning the witness please, Mr. Amsterdam.
Chapter Thirty seven: A disturbing urge to give names to your own bowel movements
Melville went back to reading the dating book. Step one had been "ask her a romantic question," and step two was: "complement her outfit, her perfume, or her breast size." "Uh," said Melville, "You have very nice...uhm...breasts." Several jury members screamed. The judge said "Thank you. I do, don't I?" he looked in a mirror admiringly before saying, "But please stick with questions for the witness, okay?"
Melville was slightly confused, but decided there was nothing for it but to continue questioning his mother. He went on to step three: "ask her on a date."
"Hey, hot stuff, wanna head back to my place for a drink, or something?" he said, winking at the beer can. She gave no response. Melville went on to the next step, then his mouth dropped open in horror. "They want me to do that to my MOTHER?" he screamed incredulously, "...well, if it'll save my ironing board, then I'll do it. Uh...judge, you wouldn't happen to have some duct tape and some whipped cream lying around in here anywhere, would you?"
"I've had enough of this!!!" screamed a member of the jury, standing up, "This man is making a mockery out of the United States justice system!"
"We're in the United States?" said the elderly prosecutor, standing up then promptly tipping over sideways onto his desk, "I thought this was Sweden!"
"ORDER IN THE COURT!" screamed the judge, but before he could say anything else, Melville said, "I am NOT making a mockery out of this court, you filthy liars!!!" He reached into his trusty backpack, pulled out his old bazooka, and loaded it up with various objects from the courtroom: pens, pencils, glasses, a gerbil (not sure why there was a gerbil in the court). Then, he shot the entire jury with the bazooka.
"Objection!" said the elderly prosecutor, as he sat up, his back cracked, and he fell back down on his desk again, "The defense attorney's tie fell off while he was shooting the jury! Clearly a blatant breach of this court's dress code!"
"Oh, shut up, you senile moron," said the judge, "Objection overruled. However, this is a bit of a dilemma. Our entire jury is lying dead on the floor."
"No matter!" said Melville, and he pointed at a decorative tank of goldfish on the other side of the room, "They can be our jury!"
"Good idea! But...there are only eleven of them!"
"No problem! I'll just draw a goldfish on a piece of paper and drop it in!" Melville did so, and the drawing of a goldfish promptly dissolved. Then, the judge asked the prosecutor to call a witness to the stand.
"I call," said the prosecutor, "Louise Piddleton to the stand!" Melville did not recognize this name at first, but when he saw the little old woman hobbling up to the stand, he recognized her immediately. She was the same old woman who had told him, long ago, not to be a pervert, and lectured him on his immoral behavior after he tried to buy the ironing board.
"That man is a pervert!" she bellowed, before the old prosecutor could ask her any questions, "And the ironing board we have on trial today is a WHORE! A FILTHY WHORE!!!!!"
"How dare you insult my wife!!!" screamed Melville, and he shot her.
Chapter Forty-Two: A Disturbing...Are you gonna eat that, Daphne?
The prosecutor abruptly woke up and screamed,"OBJECTION! The district attorney shot my witness!"
"No I didn't," yelled back Melville, "I just...uh...punched her. Very very hard."
"I've had enough!" bellowed the judge, "This case is starting to cut into my lunch hour, and today is lard day! Let's just skip straight to the verdict! Uuuuh...jury? How do you find the defendant?"
The fish didn't respond. Melville said, "How about this? Jury, if you think the defendant is innocent, don't do anything. If you think the defendant is guilty, die." None of the fish died.
"Very well, it appears that the jury has made up its mind!" said the judge, "And it finds the defendant...innoc-inn-inno...dammit...innocuous? No....in...inco-innor-uh...forget it. Since I can't pronounce "innocent," this court finds the defendant...GUILTY AS CHARGED! We will execute her immediately!!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Melville, and he tried to shoot the judge, but he was out of ammunition. Just when Melville thought all hope was lost, an audience member said: "How can you execute an inanimate object?"
"Hmm..." said the judge, "...that's a good point. I know! We'll just execute the court stenographer instead! Melville, you're free to go, unless you'd like to watch the execution?"
"No thanks, I have some catching up to do with my wife," said Melville, winking.
"Ah, I know what you mean. I sure do miss having sex with my wife. Too bad I had her executed last week when I got overexcited and pronounced everyone in the building to be guilty as charged."
Chapter Fifty: A disturbing gratefulness that this episode is over because I can't think of any more chapter names
Melville skipped out into the street, carrying his ironing board in one hand, and his empty beer can in the other. "Well ladies," he said, "We're free! I beat the justice system, and saved my wife! Now, I suppose we'll just need to settle down and find a place to live...AHA!" Melville's eyes had fallen on a large, green, moldy dumster. "It's perfect!" said Melville, as he walked up and opened it. It was filled with banana peels, diapers, and other objects that smelled simply delightful. It was filled with worms. "Oh jeeze, someone's already living here," he said to his ironing board, "And I can see why, such a quaint little cottage, right near the road, with such a great view of the courthouse..."
Melville said to the biggest worm, "I'd like to buy this from you. I have a bazooka, and," he scooped a handful of roadside sand, "Several pebbles, some pieces of broken glass, and an empty syringe. Sound good to you?" The worm wiggled, which Melville took to mean, "I accept your offer." He dumped the contents of the dumpster into the back of a nearby truck, and clambered into the dumpster with the ironing board and the can. "Looks cozy," he said, grinning at his wife, and, as he found a moldy old seat cushion, "Look! It comes with a bed!"
So ended Melville's adventure in practicing law, and so began Melville's new adventure; an adventure in household ventilation and learning to supress his gag reflex.