So today I was feeling a bit dampy. Damp and soggy like an old beach towel that's been urinated on and washed off in the ocean one too many times. Usually when I fall into a dreary mood I take out my emotions on pedestrians who happen to be too stubborn about their rights to walk on sidewalks while I'm trying to drive on them. Unfortunately, the old wagon was in the shop today due to a horrid incident with a tricycle. Mashed up the gears and whatnot.
Anyway so today I resorted to using my grandfather's old flying machine to lighten my mood. And so began my adventures in the skies! The old contraption was a bit difficult to use though, as the engine nestled beneath my tummy a bit awkwardly, and every time it rumbled I felt my intestines move down another inch. Once I took flight I came across an arch enemy of mine, Dr. Vodka Van Finklestein! The devious doctor appeared to be riding in one of his trademark Doom Blimps, and his monocle twinkled in the afternoon sun, almost angelic really. You know, I always thought Dr. Vodka Van Finklestein was quite an attractive fellow, objectively speaking that is. I mean it's not like I intend to roger him or anything, heavens no! I appear to be getting off subject.
Any how, I decided to have a little fun with Dr. Vodka Van Finklestein and rammed my small flying, spinning bladed contraption into his larger, rather intimidatingly sized one. As soon as this happened, what with his blimp not being particularly armored or anything, his Doom Blimp when flying off into the distance like a farting balloon. I got one last look at his flailing, surprisingly fit body before it splashed down into the ocean we were hovering over. And then I went home. To lots of women, whom I swept all off their feet simultaneously. Because I'm a man, who loves his women. Yes, Cheerio.
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| My grandfather riding in his flying machine |
