Archive for the ‘Local Anesthesia’ Category


Epilogue 2014 – Minor Characters

December 21, 2013

Because of the government sequestering, the Fighting Blitzens no longer had the funding to defend our nation’s holidays. The unit was absorbed into the NSA to help with listening to our phone calls, reading our emails, and monitoring our web activities.

Speaking of the NSA, Jackal continues to listen to my phone calls, and he thanks me for my taste in Tumblr porn sites.

Black Jesus still bartends at a local gay bar, convinced more than ever not to let people know he’s come back to Earth.

Sean and Lucia Wheatley ended up shooting each other.  Not in some domestic violence incident or suicide pact.  They got so paranoid about gay marriage and Obama coming to put them in a FEMA camp and the knockout game that they bought a gun.  Then they bought two guns.  Then they bought twenty guns because if one gun made them safe then thirty guns would be make them the safest motherfuckers in the world.  Then came that fateful night when Lucia got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, with her gun because, hey, why not?  Then a cat knocked over a trashcan out back, which woke Sean.  He thought someone was breaking into the house, Lucia thought someone was breaking into the house, and they ended up running into each other in the hallway with gun blazing.

Jeff Malton, the Iraqi war vet who no one likes, is still an asshole and he still doesn’t have a crotch.

Suitcase of Scorpions (R), the head of our City Council, lost in a primary to Tea Party candidate: Rape Lemonade.  Rape Lemonade went on to lose in the general election to an eighth grader named Cassandra Polymer (apparently our town charter did not have an age limit to hold political office in it).  By seniority rules, a new head of City Council was named – coma patient Jarrko Lukkenen (D).  It is predicted by political pundits that Mr. Lukkenen will be governor of the state within four years, as long as he doesn’t wake from his coma.

Mikka’s sister Riika married our local Ultimate Fighter Critical Nash.

As for Tina the Lesbian’s siblings… Jennifer the Straight remains heterosexual with her husband and kids.  Patrick the Thrice-Divorced is now Patrick the Four-Time Divorcee.



But at least they left the ice scraper…

April 26, 2010

My car got rummaged through this weekend, likely because I neglected to lock the door.  They went through my glove box and grabbed my proof of insurance, state registration card, and my owner’s manual.  Not sure what that’s going to do for them, but whatever. Also they grabbed my little crappy FM transmitter thing I used to play my iPod through the radio, which mostly allowed me to listen to my favorite song with smatterings to overwhelming portions of static depending on where I was in town.  They didn’t take the stereo, probably because the tape adapter that I formerly used for my iPod (that actually worked really well) got stuck and caused the tape player to go tits up and fail (and my car is old enough not to have an auxiliary jack).  And they didn’t get my sunglasses or spare change either.

Police were notified, a report filed, life goes on.  Well, not really because Ninja Vicki saw me talking to the cops and got indignant about it.

“So what that all about?”  Ninja Vicki said to me. “Why’s the Po-Po at your door?”

I relayed the first paragraph of this tale to her, but she interrupted me part way through.

“Oh, and I suppose you think I did it, eh?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Shit gets stolen and every one blames the ninja.  That is profiling, and profiling is wrong.  Except now in Arizona.”

I explain to her that I know she didn’t do it because nothing of real value was taken.  The insurance and registration forms can be replaced by my insurer and the DMV respectively, though their identity theft value is unknown but likely low.  And she doesn’t have a car so a shitty ten dollar transmitter that plugs into the cigarette lighter is of no use to her either. Or a talking digital air pressure gauge for that matter.

“Okay… but you thought about profiling me for a moment, didn’t ya?”  says Ninja Vicki.

I explain to her that I didn’t because I know that she knows if she was going to steal from me, she’d steal it from my house because that’s where I keep things that have some sort of value, like hockey jerseys or video games or jars of my man seed.

“Well, okay, but if someone steal those things, don’t automatically assume it’s me, all right?”  says Ninja Vicki.

Come to think of it, if my jars of sperm went missing, I don’t think Ninja Vicki would be high on my list of possible suspects.  In fact, I’m not sure who I would suspect.  Cloners, perhaps?


This is why they spend so much time away from their districts

September 8, 2009

Our reluctant Congressman Matt Rotary-Phone (D) held one of those town hall meetings about health care reform recently.  I don’t think he’ll be having another.

“Obama will destroy the constitution with his health care plan!” proclaimed one of the people at the town hall. 

“Yeah!  We’ll have to quarter British soldiers in our homes!”  said another, referring to the 3rd amendment.

“Tag Larkin gives no quarter!”  says Tag Larkin, exercising his civic duty as a concerned citizen.  Also these town halls are one of the few public forums that Tag Larkin has not been banned from.

“Alcohol will become illegal again!  And then fourteen years later become legal again!”  says someone else, referring to the 21st  amendment that repealed prohibition and the 18th amendment that enacted it in the first place.  “You know, if Obama decides to dismantle the Constitution in reverse order.”

“Pay raises for congressmen and senators could take effect before an election of the House of Representatives and not after!”  says a member of the audience, mentioning the often overlooked 27th amendment.   “That’s bullshit, man!  We don’t live in Stalin-Hitler-Al Qaeda Land!  This is America!”

“US Senators will no longer be directly elected by the people, and instead be elected by state legislatures!”  says another citizen, referring to the 17th amendment.   “And then Obama will strangle my grandmother in the night with piano wire!”

“The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to Tag Larkin,”  says Tag Larkin, interpreting the 10th amendment in a way that only Tag Larkin can.

“Poll taxes would be legal, blacks and women would not be able to vote, the voting age would be raised back to 21, and federal income taxes would be abolished,” says the president of our community college’s Young Republicans club, or at least that what his button says.  “Wait… that actually works out all right for us…” 

“If the 7th amendment gets repealed, we won’t have to do jury duty anymore,” says a not-so-concerned citizen.  “That means I won’t have to miss work in two weeks…”

“And if slavery were legal again it would definitely reduce our unemployment numbers and help the local economy,” says another citizen.  “Well, if that’s what the free market wants…”

“Maybe Obama dismantling the Constitution with his dirty IslamoMarxoFascist hands with government healthcare might work out great for us,” says someone else in the crowd.

“But what about the right to bear arms?”  yells someone with a mustache.  “You can have my phallic overcompensation when you pry it from my cold dead insecure-about-my-manhood hands!”

“You have the right to bear Tag Larkin,”  says Tag Larkin who then punches  that person in the jaw in a patriotic exercise of what he believes to be his 2nd amendment rights.

The town hall became a riot at that point, which Congressman Matt Rotary-Phone did not see because halfway through everyone’s arguments he put up a scarecrow at the podium and slipped out the back without anyone noticing.  We still don’t know where he stands on a public option for health care, and at this point it probably doesn’t matter anymore.




All politics are local… except for local politics, they’re national

December 23, 2008

So last month we told you that our town’s vacant mayor position was filled by Oatmeal (D), who is a bowl of oatmeal much like how the head of our City Council Suitcase of Scorpions (R) is an actual suitcase full of scorpions.

But what we didn’t mention is that the open seat in our 5th District, Chin-Fin Town, was finally decided in an election so close they spent the last month recounting the votes. But now the town can officially declare the winner between local businessman Jiang Zhu Chang (R) and Jarrko Lukkenen (D), who has been a coma since a drunk driving crash the night of his senior prom in 1995. One guess who won…

“So why did the Democrats run a coma patient for public office?” I ask my local congressman Matt Rotary-Phone (D).

“Drunk bet,” says the congressman. “We figured that this was going to be such a big year for Democratic elections, and that everyone was going to ride in on Barack Obama’s coattails, that we could have run anyone for that City Council seat and they would have won.”

“Was there a point-spread that Coma-Boy had to overcome?” I say. “Like did he have to win by 2 points?”

“5 points,” says Matt Rotary-Phone. “And he would have covered that too but Jiang Zhu Chang wasn’t just a businessman, he was also a corrupt businessman and a convicted felon. That got a lot of votes to go his way.”

“Because Americans don’t really care if our politicians are corrupt, we just want to get something out of it,” I say. “Yes, I know the game.”

“The best part about having Jarrko the Coma Patient as a Councilman is that he’s almost assured to be reelected in four years,” says Matt Rotary-Phone. “He’s in a coma. He can’t vote for anything in Council. That makes it impossible for anyone to run ads against his voting record.”

“And he won’t be banging any interns either,” I say. “Hey, I think I like this idea of running coma patients for public office.”

“Might as well,” says Matt Rotary-Phone. “I told you we’re doomed anyway.”

Maybe I’d like the idea of Caroline Kennedy as the Senator of New York if she were in a coma.

vicki smallnote



Sniper Cindy

July 1, 2008

Being a ninja, Ninja Vicki gets to hang out with other people in the assassin business. One of those people is Sniper Cindy.

Like Ninja Vicki, Sniper Cindy is a silent killer. Unlike Ninja Vicki, Sniper Cindy prefers to kill people from a distance.

And Sniper Cindy doesn’t have a “no women, no children” rule like most assassins have, because Sniper Cindy is a feminist and believes a woman is just as deserving as a man to have her head splattered by a bullet.

But she does have an off-duty rule (meaning when she’s shooting people in her free time) of only shooting people who are carrying guns. So she has a friend in the halls of state government give her a list of everyone who has license to carry a firearm in public. Then she goes hunting. She does it because she enjoys the irony that a person’s desire to carry a gun for self-defense is the very thing that would mark them for death.

And this is why Sniper Cindy will not shoot Samurai Cathy for Ninja Vicki, because Samurai Cathy only carries a sword.

“What if she’s got a bow and arrow?” Ninja Vicki asks Sniper Cindy as they share a beer up in a tree.

“Bow and arrow’s not a gun,” says Sniper Cindy. She’s a soft-spoken girl, at least compared to Ninja Vicki.

Sniper Cindy also earns extra money as a babysitter. She will watch your kids for you, through her sniper scope from across the street.



If the roadside bombs didn’t get you, Morrissey will

June 19, 2008

So we hear about how US military suicides are at record highs, and we get to thinking about the mental health of our local Iraq war veteran Jeff Malton.

We’re not concerned about his mental health, mind you, because Jeff Malton is a fucking asshole and no one likes him. We’re disappointed that he hasn’t killed himself.

We’ve tried to put the idea in his head. Telling him “Man, if I lost my crotch in the war like you did, I’d kill myself.” But he’s not getting the hint.

We’ve given him the most depressing music we know, Morrissey, but they’re not doing the trick either.

Then we heard about how soldiers with Post-Traumatic Street Disorder were living near firing ranges and the sound of gunfire was triggering anxiety attacks in them. And while Jeff Malton doesn’t live near a firing range, we do have Mikka’s XBox 360 and his assortment of first-person shooter games.

So we’ve been playing Halo and Call of Duty and other gun-centric games at full volume right next door to Jeff Malton for a week, and we haven’t seen one freakout or breakdown or anything else that would denote that it’s doing anything to inch him closer to taking his own life.

But at least budget cuts at the VA Hospital will prevent him from getting the mental health he would need to stave off the mental problems that lead to suicide, should he ever get to that point. Way to go government!



Kimurorial Day

May 26, 2008

You need to be careful which Memorial Day barbecue you attend. Especially if it’s Critical Nash’s house.

See, Critical Nash is our local Ultimate Fighter, and he throws a hell of a party at his house.  Except there is a price for admission.  And it’s not a six-pack of lager or a casserole or a jar of salsa.

At any point in the party, Critical Nash can sneak up on you and put you in a submission hold.  Only once though.

So you could be standing there having a beer and discussing the newest Fallout Boy album, and then the next thing you know Critical Nash has you in a rear naked choke.  And if you don’t know to tap out, you will pass out in about five seconds.  But since you were discussing the newest Fallout Boy album, you kind of deserved it.

Sometimes Critical Nash will offer you a cheeseburger and then when you reach for it he’ll lock your arm in a Kimura.  And even though you’ll scream as he torques your arm behind your back, he will eventually let you go and he’ll still give you that burger.  And it is a tasty cheeseburger.  It’s got pepperjack cheese.

And don’t park yourself on a lounge chair, because that just opens you up for Critical Nash to lock in a knee bar or an Achilles lock.  But when you spill your beer from flailing around, he’ll get you another one.

If I get invited this year, I’m bringing Ninja Vicki.  No… maybe not.  Critical Nash would go for an armbar on her and she’d rip his throat out.  Maybe I’d bring Samurai Cathy.  She’d probably just dislocate his elbow or shoulder.



Thematically But Not Mathematically Eliminated

May 20, 2008

We have a softball league in town, and each team is sponsored by a local business. Tina the Lesbian’s team is sponsored by the local lesbian bar ClamLappers. And surprisingly there are people who will play for a team sponsored by Nate Tanner is a Convicted Sex Offender’s Ice Cream Shoppe.

But sadly, the team sponsored by The Adultatorium does rather poorly in this league. Maybe it’s all the porn-watching before games and the inevitable pre-game wank (hey, no sex before games, says Mickey from the Rocky movies, it weakens the knees), but in any case The Adultatorium Softball Club is in last place in the league. By a lot.

So the other day one of the heads of the league, John Chowder of the BisquoTech, pays a visit to the owner of The Adultatorium, Todd Rigid.

“Hey man, maybe your team shouldn’t play anymore,” says John Chowder. “I mean, you’re out of playoff contention and it’s only May.”

“No, we can still get in,” says Todd Rigid. “If we win 15 out of the last 16 games, and Brimstone’s Gothic Nightmare Boutique loses half of their remaining games and OverCompensator’s Gun Shop loses twelve straight…”

“Yeah, and that’s highly unlikely,” says John Chowder. “Look, even the local paper says it’s over for you. Softball writer Stain Gritcolon wrote a column about how done you are.”

“Who is he to decide that?” says Todd Rigid. “Just because he has a newspaper column? And a blog? And a show on Public Access TV? I say we decide these things on the field, not in the media.”

“Listen, it’s over,” says John Chowder. “You need to drop out. For the good of the league. It’s getting embarrassing.”

“But we like softball,” says Todd Rigid. “Sure, my team’s not good at it. But a lot of people suck at sex and they still do it.”

“Yes, but they don’t have sex in an attempt to win the Peter Tomarkin Memorial Trophy And Punch Bowl,” says John Chowder. “You’re tearing the softball league apart.”

Todd Rigid gets the notion that something isn’t quite right with John Chowder’s request, so he has his in-house Dildo Expert Sorcha Silviera do some investigating. Turns out that when Team BisquoTech and the Adultatorium are scheduled to play each other in two weeks all of Team BisquoTech will be out of town for some sort of soup convention, and they’ve already used their one rescheduling. That means they would have to forfeit the game to the Adultatorium, and that would hurt because Team BisquoTech is in a vicious race for First Place with the squad from ClamLappers.

John Chowder is tricksy, but then again you have to be tricksy to have a successful soup-based dance club.




The Lord may have risen, but our prices haven’t

March 24, 2008

Sometimes I think holidays only exist for the benefit of our local car dealers, for without them they’d have nothing cool to call their sales promotions.

Case in point: Sid Steelcock Volvo.  Just off Route 42 near the Insane Asylum (his usual commercials say “Our prices make our neighbors look sane.”)

So old Sid Steelcock’s got some cars to offload some C70’s or whatever, so he had his annual “Beaster Sale” this past weekend.  It’s like Easter, except it absolutely rocks your jock.

“Jesus would have stayed alive if he was in one of my Volvo’s,” says Sid Steelcock, referring to the high safety marks Volvo’s receive from consumer reports-type people.

And with the prices at Sid Steelcock Volvo, you’ll swear you got a better deal than Barabas did.

Or as Sid Steelcock says on his commercials: “The Romans may have beaten Jesus, but not even they can beat our prices.”

Then he’s got a mini-Jesus on a cross in the showroom, and if you throw a crown of thorns on the Messiah’s head you get an extra $500 off.  It’s like a blasphemous game of ring toss.  But it’s not as bad as his 9/11 Paper Airplane Toss.  Then again, I’d throw a paper plane at a mini World Trade Center in hopes of putting it in the slot where the 78th to 85th floors would be just so I could get 0.0%APR on a new XC90.

Sid Steelcock will not be undersold.  Financially or morally.

Here comes Peter Cottontail… hopping down the trail…


She doesn’t even own a motorcycle

January 10, 2008

Nursemyra’s recent entry in our Character Art Contest raises a lot of important, semi-important, and not very important questions.

No Ninjas on Bikes

Does this sign mean that ninjas aren’t allowed to ride motorcycles in town (which is ironic, because there’s a brand of motorcycle called Ninja)? I briefly thought it meant that you couldn’t wield a sword while riding your bike, but if that was the case then they wouldn’t have put the picture of the person on the sign. Is that person even a ninja? Is it a samurai? Or a pirate? Or the guy who guards Ali Baba’s den of gold (that’s a rather arabic looking sword there)?

All I know is that Ninja Vicki isn’t happy with some sort of legal ordinance that limits her freedom to wield swords and ride motorcycles. She doesn’t own a motorcycle, and motorcycles tend to be loud and thus negate the silent killer image that ninjas like to cultivate, but she wants the choice, damn it. She would ask our City Council to address this issue, but ninjas don’t lobby. They just threaten people’s lives. However, our City Council is rather hard to threaten like that. Sure, Sean Connery (R – no, not the actor) and Miika Song-Li (D- from Chin-Fin town, but not our Mikka who dates Samurai Cathy) could be gotten to,being mere mortals. But Councilwoman Natayla Konstantinov (D) is a former international super-villain henchwoman so her residence is full of traps and laser, Johnny Omega (D) is a cyborg with superhuman strength and speed, Tatianna Fangoria (I) is a succubus who can fly and shoot magical fire, and City Council Leader Suitcase of Scorpions is a suitcase of scorpions. A ninja would have a tough time dealing with them.

Samurai Cathy doesn’t own a motorcycle either, but she doesn’t care because she doesn’t even have a driver’s license. She either walks everywhere or takes public transportation, because it’s easier for people to hire her when she’s out and about rather than in a car.

-rf ain’t no country I ever heard of. They speak English in ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER! DO YOU SPEAK IT?

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