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| YUGO |
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YUGO LABS |
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| The Adventures of Agent Porktanker, Pt. 1 | |
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I leaned in close to the narrow peephole, not letting halitosis stop my pursuit of proper clandestinery.
"Poindexter Von Juggalo The Filth," I clearly enunciated. The man's nose wrinkled, and then disappeared as he went to punch in the door code. I took a nip from my flask to freshen my breath. The door lurched into life, and I noted the bassy hum of a pwm-driven motor for later research into the door's make and model. A short man with black hair, male pattern baldness, and a hello kitty t-shirt peered out at me. "Whadda ya want, buddy? What'll it be?" "I'd like to... I'd like to go on the Internet," I mumbled shyly. "Never heard it called that before." He shifted back and forth impatiently. "So, you want a gram or what?" "I WOULD LIKE OVER 9000!" I declared assertively. So assertively, I almost broke wind. "Ten kilos? You're gonna have to see da boss on that one. Come on in." My plan was working. The anteroom with the door was a dull bunker. However, there was another door (not as threatening as the main door, but still quite staid) behind which a different atmosphere lurked. "My god!" I cried. "It's full of balls!" "Fuckin' tell me about it!" my anonymous doorman snapped. "Boss fuckin' loves those stupid plastic balls. Whole place is filled with 'em. He also makes us wear these fuckin' Hello Kitty t-shirts." Then he tensed up, realizing what he'd just said. "Uh, but.... you won't tell him that, right?" "No, no, that's just between you and me, um... what was your name?" "Joe LiTrenta! But the boss calls me... snugglewugglepuss the shineyhead." Feeling his pain, I offered him my hip flask without a word. He took a large swig. I believe this is what they call developing rapport. After I'd had another swig myself, he jerked his head towards the pool of colored plastic balls, and jumped in. I followed, trying to take in as much of the layout as I possibly could without falling on my corpulent behind. Technicians in Hello Kitty lab coats stood in plastic balls, marking clipboards and calibrating equipment; tweaking chemical apparati and bagging product. Armed guards stood in plastic balls, looking, well, armed. A secretary sat at a desk, in plastic balls, the desk itself only barely cresting the sea of colored spheres. I imagined they got all over her desk when anyone got near it. Finally we reached a staircase, leading out of the plastic balls. I felt like a fish evolving legs -- and the name on the ornate door at the top left no doubt that this was precisely what was intended. C.E.O. Meow Meow Bath Products Psychological degredation through that which brings joy to children. kitty always did have a twisted sense of humor. "Boss?" Joe/snugglewugglepuss the shineyhead had reached the top of the stairs, and was poking his head in the door. "Yeah, this guy here says he wants over 9000." He turned back to me. "C'mon in...." TO BE CONTINUED (maybe) |
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| Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2013-03-22 02:03:25 | |
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At 2013-03-23 05:49:02, Plinkington Ergsworth [website] scribbled the following:
excellent old bean |
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