Tastier than abortedchildren.

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A Book Pitch

Synopsis: The Adventures of Earnest and Fun Couch is a children’s book that tells the story of two couches (Ernest and Fun Couch) meeting with other household furniture, going on an adventure after the adults have utilized them

Category: Sex-ed literature

Audience: Children aged 6-8, those with promiscuous parents, kids who ask too many questions about stains

Other characters: Burt the Creaking Bed, Sharon the Shower Stall, Kandice the Kitchen Counter, Benjamin the Balcony Railing¹— they all go through the same experience as Earnest and Fun Couch, as adults come and sit on them²

VillainLazarus the Lysol Wipe

Plot: On a sunny September day, Earnest realizes one of his legs is hurting. His friend from across the house, Fun Couch, comes over to investigate. They suspect that it might be a result of their parents, Rod and Fellatia having “sat” on Earnest too rigourously. They go around the house, finding similar things having happened to Burt the bed, Sharon the shower stall, Kandice the kitchen counter, Benjamin the balcony railing, and also, to their utter surprise, Steve the stove (“they turned me on… before they turned me on!”)

As they get closer to figuring out the mystery as to why they have suffered those injuries and stains, Lazarus the Lysol Wipe enters and prevents them from confronting Rod and Fellatia. Lazarus declares that his cleaning properties will erase all evidence and smells, and there will be no traces of anything, as that’s just how Rod— who is at work at the steel plant right now— wants it.

Earnest and his pals fend off each obstacle Lazarus throws their way, and in the end, finds Whitey the Policeman Who Has Been Acquitted Of Shooting A Black Kid Twenty Times During a Traffic Stop, to tell him everything. However, Whitey needed proof that something illegal was done, and Earnest has none…

…Until Fun Couch realizes that Fellatia left her elementary school student ID in one of his crevices.

With this, Whitey arrests Rod and Lazarus, and all the furniture in the house can rejoice again and live peacefully!

Moral: (Children) Do not enter any rooms after you hear creaking/bouncing/grunting/shrieking/cracking/disappointed female sighs or forced superlatives (“I had such a great minute and a twenty two seconds!”)

(Adults) Consider your legs and the furniture legs/Don’t do illegal things/Invest in a gag

Sequel: The Adventures of Larry The Law being interpreted by Jeremiah the Judge Who is Hell Bent On Acquitting Rod Because of The Brotherhood of Penis and Other Stupid Bullshit Because They Can Get Away With It

1. The author will make every effort to keep Balcony Railing as a noun
2. May not necessarily be in that order

A Guide For Newcomers to (The New) Canada

Dear immigrant,

Welcome to Canada, we trust that you have settled in by now.

If you are of Anglo-Saxon descent who have received this letter by mistake, please return this back to the nearest government office possible. This letter is meant for people of “other” heritages who have been approved to immigrate to Canada. And since we have only printed about six of these letters, in accordance with the amount of said immigrants we approved this year, we really do not want to waste more ink to print another one. As you may know, we are going through some trying economic times, and every little bit helps.

So, again, if you are one of the lucky six who have been approved to Canada, welcome!

We have enclosed a list of neighborhoods where you may find yourself comfortable to settle into. From that list, we personally recommend the likes of Sudbury, Moose Jaw, or Red Deer. We understand that you may rather live closer to those who speak your language, but that wouldn’t be a truly Canadian experience, now would it? Besides, yes, while we are fervent supporters of multiculturalism, what often goes unsaid (and that is our fault, we admit) is that we prefer those multiculturalisms be buried inside the confines of your property, if not six feet under.

On that note, it would be ideal that whichever property you purchase that it’d be smell proof. So in case you are to practice your culture inside those walls– or more specifically, cook your various foods– the smell will not escape. We know that you would like to argue that you have the freedom to cook whatever foods you desire, but since even the lightest whiff of those scents usually give us– those of us who are used to steak and potatoes– a queasy feeling, it becomes a health issue. And that, we are sorry to inform you, is more important than your curry.

Regarding the issue of language, let’s just say that if you are reading this and can understand even some of it, what’s stopping you from learning the rest of it? We are people of industry, and since you are moving in with us, we would prefer you to pick up some of that industry and learn some goddamn English. Because we sure aren’t going to learn yours. Now, we’re not egotistical enough to think that you are talking about us whenever you speak in tongues, but no matter, it just makes us uncomfortable. Why? Because we don’t understand. So what, you ask? Because we got here first, that’s what.

Now your child’s history books may tell you something different, that there are certain peoples– Indians (no, not some of yous, the other kinds)– who were here first. That is technically true. But something else that is also technically true is that we beat the shit out of them, so unless they get to write the history books and run the country, tough. And I know you may argue that “getting here first” is a relative concept, and that twenty years down the road, you may be able to say to the sudden influx of Papua New Guineans wanting to migrate here that you got here first, and so they should speak your funny language. Allow us to nip this in the bud and let you know the harsh truth, which is that there is, indeed, a demarcation line for the definition “getting here first.”  Sept. 29th, 1973. Hence, to our understanding, the heritage of the peoples who have the moral authority to utter the phrase “we got here first” are as follows: English, American, Irish, Scottish, German, Greek, Portuguese, certain generations of Italians (the ones old enough not see jeans as a “fashion statement”). I know this is all a bit hard to take in, and in the heat of the moment, may be hard to figure out. Here’s a useful tip: if he’s white (or off-white), he’s probably one of us.

If this might make us seem a little antagonistic, rest assured, we’re not. We do want you here. We do want your money here. Actually, we don’t really need you here. Just your money. After that, if you want to fuck off back to Chindiagladeshxico, feel free.

It is preferable that you cheer for our athletes no matter what. No matter the ability or character of said athlete(s), if he or she represents Canada, it is your patriotic duty to commiserate if they lose, celebrate if they win, and also feel a sense of unspeakable pride after such event– even though you, personally, have done nothing to contribute and all you have in common with that athlete is the same passport cover. In the rare event that a situation presents a moral dilemma, for example if the athlete in question is Canadian but is also a convicted child molester, it is preferable that you still cheer (just think of our flag, and not crying little boys dripping blood from various orifices). It is useful for you to understand that in our culture, in regards to matters involving our flag, there is no place for rational thinking. Why do you think you’re reading this?

If you entered our country by claiming refugee status, please inform us of the officer’s name who approved your claim. Well, soon to be ex-officer.

As for religion, if your God has more than two arms or support terrorist activities (if he qualifies for the first chances are he qualifies for the second), he/she/it is not welcomed here.

Yours truly,

The Ministry of Payphones (and Multiculturalism)

Lyricspoop – Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay

Shittin’ in the mornin’ sun
I’ll be shittin’ when the evenin’ come
Watching the shits roll in
And then I watch ’em roll away again, yeah

I’m shittin’ on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I’m just shittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time

I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the ‘Frisco bay
‘Cause I’ve had nothing to live for
And look like nothin’s gonna come my way

So I’m just gonna shit on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I’m shittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time

Look like nothing’s gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can’t do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I’ll remain the same, yes

Shittin’ here, resting my bones
And this loneliness won’t leave me alone
It’s two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home

Now, I’m just gonna shit at the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Oooo-wee, shittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time

Overheard at the Movie Studio

“Listen, Mike, I liked your script. But my note is that  the ending needs some tweaking. It’s too dark.”

“Well, I mean, it’s supposed to be dark.”

“You’re not getting it. This is Hollywood, people love happy endings. Glimmer of hope. They fall in love. Audience goes home happy.”

“I can try, but really, I just don’t think–”

“Listen, it’s my studio’s money, give me a happy ending. Something that makes me feel warm and fuzzy.”

“It’s a movie about a girl getting raped.”

“Yes, so can they like, fall in love with the end or something? Reconcile their differences?”