Studs and studettes, we
got him! The spackler has been brought
to justice. To make a long story short, basically,
for five nights in a row, I was woken up by someone knocking on my door. By the time I put on my woodpecker undies,
stumbled through my dark house, and got to the door, the perpetrator had disappeared,
leaving only a paper bag filled with chocolate pudding they had set on fire. I promptly stomped it out, woke up all of my
technicians and had them fan out from my house to find this pudding hating pyromaniac. I basically knew it was someone not very
intimate with my dietary preferences or they would have known I like banana flavored pudding! Or, maybe they knew I disliked chocolate
and that’s why they threw that on my porch. Anyway, my technicians failed to locate the
culprit, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I borrowed a security camera system a
villager was using to find out what jungle creature was raping his goats. I put it on a fence post across from my front
door and went to bed, knowing the perpetrator could not resist throwing his
pudding on my porch again. Like
clockwork I was woken up by knocking and the flickering of a small flaming bag
of chocolate pudding. I promptly stomped
out the fire and retrieved my video. I
couldn’t freakin’ believe it! It was the
Slovenian jeweler I hired to make the petrified owl-monkey-testicle-laden ring
for Ursula. AND, it wasn’t chocolate
pudding at all, it was a bag of his feces.
ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME?! I
stomped on a flaming bag of sh*t with my new freakin’ gorilla's wool slippers?!
I decided the best way to catch this poop flinging jeweler was to have the villager that was having his goats raped to make me a man-sized snare. He was unwilling at first because I wouldn’t tell him what I needed it for, but when I told him I would give him back his camera if he built the snare, he capitulated. I’m not bragging or anything, but my flawless negotiational skills and mastery of the Paraguayan and English languages are enough to convince anyone to do my bidding. Basically, the snare worked! I caught him the next night. Unfortunately, while he was thrashing around in the snare he smashed the camera to a million pieces, but since he did it, it was his responsibility to tell the villager it was broken.
Why did he do it you wonder? He apparently went bankrupt as a result of my
public condemnation of the sale of petrified owl-monkey-testicle-laden rings
once I found out the testicles came from real freakin’ monkeys. He also admitted to spackling all over my
bathroom. That, he said, was for me
spackling all over his bathroom when I was meeting with him to design Ursula’s
ring. Well, I’m sorry jewelry guy for my
body forcefully rejecting the ground beef you fed me for lunch! Why would you expect me to clean up my poop
when it was in your store?!
What don’t people understand about the uncontrollability of my bowel
movements?!
I decided the best way
to get my revenge was to send the video of the porch pooping to a
local news station. I told them I was a schoolteacher at a boarding school in a nearby village to avoid having to deal with the fame that would surely come from my use of the man-sized snare. I didn't want police from all over Paraguay banging on my door asking me to build them man-sized snares, which I obviously don't have time to build. Basically, the video was
watched by dozens if not hundreds of people, providing me with a giddy feeling that comes only from cold justice.
I’ve provided a link to the video here.
You’re welcome.
WARNING: This is barely
graphic footage, even though I’ve blurred out the man parts (you’re welcome
ladies)! http://www.firstcoastnews.com/video/default.aspx?bctid=1206853467001
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