I've Never Tried Jambalaya

By: Al Yen

Al Yen’s Journal. December 24, 2040:

They told me it was found. I was intent on believing them – after all, this may change the course of the war.

I haven’t had the sweet nutrients of fruits or vegetables for so long.

The informants told me president Hoss has hit the last nerve. Any second now, I suspect smoke from the sky and lightning from the ground. Tim has just about taken the last of the western front. Wake’s lackluster performance in China has brought the end to a beautiful nation. I heard Tom died from the AIDS while in Africa. It’s just me and the desert, and maybe Jesus’ Mexican and Canadian armies, which hold the last bastions of freedom from this onslaught.

I wish sand wasn’t so dry. I wish I could drink sand. The gods cursed me with this humongous tongue. I need moisture.

The temple is at the horizon. Any second the tides of war will ebb and flow away, and I shall become the king once again.

{{{{{+}}}}}

From the desk of Victor Banh, U.S. Secretary:
Dear Tina,
I fear things are lost. Diplomatic negotiations have failed, and around here in D.C., everyone has gone mad. I hoped that the summit meets with the U.N. could stop it, but it has failed. Our whole system is going down. Our whole history is burning to the ground.
President Hoss issued the call today. FBI got the whole place rigged. Nothing is getting in or out, save a few letters here or there. I don’t feel too good. It may be all over.
Tina, I fear for you and our children everyday. Remember that I love you and I miss you.
Let’s hope it won’t really be a white Christmas.
Sincerely,
Victor “Vicky” Banh

United States Secretary of the Treasury

{{{{{+}}}}}

The New E-Los Angeles TimesDecember 24, 2040 3:45pm:

The following is a transcript from a presidential press conference

President Hoss: Ladies and gentleman of the press, I want to tell you that, indeed, we will be unleashing our secret weapon. Now, I’d go on further to expound the origins of this secret weapon, but technically, that wouldn’t make it secret anymore. So, rather than contradict myself, I shall get right to the conclusion: Tim, you and the Fourth Reich stops here. With the push of a button, your atoms will be torn apart, nucleus by nucleus, by light so radiant there will be no chance of survival for you.

Joe Johnson, NBC: Sir, how is victory for us really secure? There are no guarantees in life, what makes you so sure your plan of action; your secret weapon, won’t fail?

Hoss: Ah yes, that is a good question. You see, my weapon, AMERICA’S weapon, is so foolproof that not even an atomic bomb will alter its intended course.

Jack Jackington, CBS: Do you mean to say our weapon is not an atomic bomb? What else could it be?

Hoss: Gentlemen, time has proven that the atomic bomb, the atomic rocket; even the atomic zeppelin does not stand the chance against society’s current anti-rocket weaponry. What my weapon is, gentlemen, is something free-thinking. Something that grows and adapts to any environment, as if it were alive. Gentlemen, meet: The Atomic Ape.

Jane Janidall, FOX: Mr. President…. Why is the ape wearing a bra?

Hoss: If you can find another way to keep those mamas firm, I’d like to hear it!

Jiff Jeffery, ABC: Sir, I don’t understand. How is an atomic ape supposed to solve anything?

Hoss: That, my friend, is where the secret lies. That is how we win… …

{{{{{+}}}}}

Irvin’s Jiggly Jargon, December 24 6:48p.m:

Coming this weekend to an Anaheim’s Irv Shack near you!
-Lady Lickalicious: 3-5p.m.
-Shaniqua Shanaynay: 5-7p.m. (if anybody orders pizza, she will stay an extra hour)
-Sexarella: ?-midnight
-Me, Irv the Perv, will be there PERSONALLY after twelve! Free drinks for everybody!

Extra News!
-We’d like to congratulate Kid Luscious on his Tour de France win! Good going, kid! Thanks to his efforts, Irv the Perv’s Dungeon of Danger will be getting a special $100,000 check. Woo!
-In celebration of Christmas, the special Moby Dick on Breast Mountain Christmas episode will be available on our website!
-Is it just me, or are there a lot of lights in the sky?

{{{{{+}}}}}

Pika’s Answering Machine, 9:10p.m:

*click* Hey I’m not at the phone right now so leave a message after the beep. *click*

*beep* Hey Matthew, it’s My. I was in town and wondering if I you and me can get something to eat. Talk to me as soon as you can. *click*

*beep* Matthew, you can cancel on that dinner. My secretary called me saying something the end of the world. Pretty weird, don’t ya think? *click*

*beep* Hey Matt, Wit here. Listen, where the heck are you? You were supposed to be AT the museum nine SHARP. Jesus Christ, forget it. *click*

*beep* Oh yeah, you can tell the others it’s cancelled too. One preserved head can only do so much. Just forget it Matt. Goddamned it, stupid drivers. GET OFF THE ROAD YOU JACKASS! *click*

*beep* Another thing, don’t try going on the 820, bunch of wackos talking about the end of the world. YOU’RE ALL NUTS! *click*

{{{{{+}}}}}

Al Yen’s Journal, December 24, 2040 (continued):

The camels fled off from some unknown danger. I continued onward, by foot, with a few loyal followers. Billiam Trungford Tran carried a huge gun. Why do we need a gun to get into a temple? Secretly, I contemplated killing him.

There was a misalignment in the stars tonight. What they were telling me is all jumbled. My power of foresight has forsaken me. Oh no, Billiam has gone mad.

I’m inside the temple now. Skeletons and tiny people are the only things in there. That’s right, this is the last sanctuary of the Christmas Elves after Tim conquered the North Pole. The tiny people have overrun Billiam. I fear he is gone. I take his gun for good luck.

I’m at the top of the temple now. Yes, what they said were true.

Journal, I have discovered the sacred staff Gandhi used to shoot fireballs at sinners with. There may yet be a way to save this world.

The temple is shaking. Have I angered the Gods by plundering this most holy of artifacts? There’s something on the horizon. It’s…

…a giant green monkey wearing a brassiere.

{{{{{+}}}}}

My Struggle: Tim Messina’s Holy Bible

Christmas. It is just a few minutes away. Christmas is when I will cleanse this land of filth. Christmas, henceforth, will be known as Deadmas.
All of Europe, I trampled underfoot. Reich war machine, I have lead to victory. Today, I die as martyr. Tomorrow, I live as god. The world shall be pure, pure after I destroy him.
Al Yen.
Giant obstruction on radar – looks like radioactive American monkey with cleavage. Not yet, I will not lose here. The world must worship me.
Not yet.

{{{{{+}}}}}

The Memoirs of the Hossinator

…All it took was one move, and I solidified my place among the hall of heroes. But, this one move is, I suppose, the main reason why I did not run for re-election. People say that it was impossible for me to win anyway, after all those slaughters, but then I didn’t become the People’s President if they didn’t believe in me in the first place!
On the verge of total destruction; of humanity’s complete obliteration through light and fire, my ingenious Atomic Ape plan went off without a hitch. It wasn’t a hard thing to do either, after I employed that crack team of scientists. Plus the monkeys. Those were damn good monkeys. In the end, I not only single-handedly save the world, but I also pulled the biggest trick in the world! Bigger than the Leaning Tower of Ohio, bigger than the Statue of Righteous Punishment, bigger than anything mankind has ever friggin’ made!
People questioned me: why? Why was that giant, uranium-glowing monkey wearing gigantic bras? Little did the American people, or those dirty Nazis know that behind each huge cup was an EMP bomb. That was how Tim Messina’s doomsday bomb didn’t go up! That was why we are alive at this very moment, because that bomb stopped all electric signals for up to two days.
In the end, I hanged up my fancy sports coat, draped my fancy president’s hat on the table, took my fancy cigar out of my pocket, stuck it into my mouth and said: Merry Christmas, Mr. President. Merry Christmas; everyone.

{{{{{+}}}}}

Al Yen’s Journal, December 25, 2040:

It happened in an instant. At one moment, there was desert, sand, and fat desert tortoises; and then - blackened glass.

Tim’s bomb went off at the stroke of midnight, with him riding on it. Perched like a gargoyle atop the falling cylinder of unstoppable annihilation, his face grimaced into a stone smile, and as he waved his cowboy hat, he laughed and declared my death before impacting on the temple. A few moments later, the giant, radioactive monkey screamed and scratched at his giant, burning brassiere. I remember seeing it hollering and screaming, even after the blast went off; its flesh melting, falling in chunks, dropping on with a saddening smack to the glass floor, like eggs being thrown at a wall.

Gandhi’s staff shielded me from the fire.

Only when the ape went insane did I ended its tortured life. The second I did, a second blast went off – I think from its breasts. All was nothing but a field of blue and white streaks across the air.

It may not be too late; I still may be able to contain the fire and lightning. It ends here.

{{{{{+}}}}}

What you have just read came from my “scrapbook” of what happened in the Christmas of two-o-four. It was there when Hoss’ American forces unleashed their secret weapon, and when Tim dropped, along with his bomb, into the Arabic desert, where his arch-nemesis Al Yen was exiled. It was there when World War III came to a traumatic end, and the world was spared, miraculously, from the endless flame.
The war took a toll on every person in the planet, with a total of four hundred billion lives lost through eleven years of fighting. China and all its great wealth and history, came to demise by the unsteady hand of Wakefield Li. A great man, Jesus, was said to have ascended from the depths of poverty to unite Canada and Mexico into a grander nation than that of America, at the cost of millions of slaves and cats. Cousin Tom’s African liberation from Tim’s New Reich came through the sacrifice of whole species, which was part of Tom’s Animal Army plan. He paid with his life. Tim’s New Reich ultimately united all of Europe, with France suffering the most from Tim’s extreme pacifism war technique. Millions were heedlessly tossed off plans, launched from cannons, and harpooned with, causing England’s surrender out of pure pity and sanity. America will never be the same after VE2 day, mostly because it is no longer called Christmas but VE2 day.
Needless to say, children everywhere are disturbed and misguided.
I suppose Al Yen found out when he stopped the Doomsday bomb’s fiery envelopment that heroism doesn’t apply to our times any longer. The gods will not allow it. For by New Years day, the world kneeled to America and her king, and Al Yen’s name was forgotten; blown away by the wind and shattered like fragile glass on hard floor.
But I will never forget, because he saved my life. He gave me Gandhi’s diapers before impact, while my mind fell apart. The world will know.





-Billiam Trungford Tran

The Claw

Wakeington Field

The A-men recently watched the movie, the Saw II, after watching Saw I several minutes beforehand. The results? A new understanding of the world's excruciating pain, and don't forget, PSYCHOS! This movie influenced me so much that I decided to make a spin-off. The name? The Claw. That's right. The CLAW.


The Claw Begins

The figure sat, in a calculated position no less, in a brown, rusting chair. It was a wheelchair to be exact. Gloom filled the room and emanated throughout, touching every nook and cranny within the room's radius. In the shadows, he planned a scheme so devious, so maniacal, so full of hatred, that he did not yet understand the scheme himself. He was foolish, but a genius. He was maniacal, but perfectly sane.

He was a Tyrannosaurus Rex with Pancreatic Cancer.

This once ingenuos boy called Adam Bittleby led a humble life. His fellow T-Rexes treated him well, and he enjoyed their companionship. Later, however, these circumstances changed. His best friend Bob Doodleby began to ridicule him and his floppy shoes. "Clowns would pee on you for looking so ridiculous," Doodleby reminded him daily. His closest lady friend Myra Tootles constantly joked about his choice of clothing; more specifically, she joked about how he had only one pair of trousers a grandpa wouldn't even wear.

Little Bittleby decided to ignore his friends, but they did not ignore him. "Why?" little Bittleby asked, staring at the night sky. "Why??" At a time when most dinosaurs feared the mighty T-Rex, they simply pointed and laughed at Bittleby. He was a nothing, a nobody. "Hey Bittleby," a pathetically puny rhinocerous would playfully chide, "wanna hear a joke?" "Oh my! After all my friends have left me, there is yet one! And he's not even a T-Rex!" he thought. "Ok! Shoot!" he replied enthusiastically. "What do ya call a large green reptile that's green and ravages our kind?" "A dog?" Bittleby wondered.

It was not unknown that Bittleby was incredibly slow, more than mentally lacking. His parents first noticed this when he ate rhinocerous poo, as opposed to the tasty herbivorous reptile set before him on his plate. When his parents asked why he ran out of the house and binged on such poo, he explained, "You're a piece of poo!"

The impossibly dense Bittleby continued to guess. "A dinosaur isn't a dog, you stupid," said the rhino, accidentally forgetting he gave away the answer. Oops. Not like Bittleby would get the answer anyway. "I don't believe it! No, it can't be! Stop it. STOP IT! PLEASE STOP!" The rhino continued to give hints.

"I'll give you more hints, buddy ol' pal. Since you're my buddy pal. Since you're dumb and all. And by dumb, I mean morbidly brainless."
"Hmmm....OK!" "
"What's a green dinosaur that has no friends?"
"That's a tough one......"
"What's a green dinosaur with no friends, AND eats my poo when I'm not looking?"
"MmMMMmm....what's that smell....??"
"Dangit!"

And without answering the question, Bittleby would hop behind the rhino and promptly devour all poo in sight, even his own.

"That last one was bitter, but oh well! A dog's gotta eat when a dog's gotta eat."

Reflecting on his life, Bittleby's understood the factors driving him to madness. In fact, everyone, including himself expected it. For when Bittleby wasn't being made fun of in his younger days, he was plotting to become a mad scientist. Though he never succeeded in the science department, he obviously succeeded in becoming a madman.

Present. His plan was ingenius; every detail and nuance had been perfectly calculated. Though clinically retarded, he specialized in the art of perfectionism. He had his victims precisely where he wanted them. The rules were set.

In a sinister voice he whispered:

"Let the games begin."

A Few Easy Steps to Survive a Kidnapping

Al Yen

If you are reading this right now, you must obviously be one of three things: a kidnap victim, a potential kidnap victim, or a kidnapper looking for some helpful hints on how to not lose your victim. Well since that is the case, I have to tell ya, you've come to the right place. We at Assmen HQ take great pride in our "ridiculous scenario survival" research, with only the greatest minds and absolute devotion going into our conclusions. You can guarantee that the Assmen Delivers!

Kidnapping is a common crime, especially if you live nearby or in any way antagonized a sociopath. With the rising ransom rates and low success in kidnap rescue these days, chances are you will end up gutted and mailed to your loved ones in pieces. So in order to improve your survival rates, all you have to do is follow a few simple set of rules:

Do not panic. Usually, in a panicked state of mind, you will loose your capabilities of finding solutions or being able to control your organs, resulting in embarrassing failure and a sad, moist trail of said failure. By remaining calm and emotionally distant, your chances in avoiding Stockholm syndrome and messy spills improve greatly. Go ahead and be completely agnostic towards your kidnappers, because the less kindle you give them, the less likely their scoundrely ambition burns. (Hella metaphor)

Always listen to the kids. I've seen this many times in past cases I have seen in the movies. The common scenario: a child will tug at their parents' bed, complaining about a nightmare or a monster in their room. It is usually bone-chilling and completely ridiculous in the logical sense, but in these modern times the likelihood of there being an escaped convict in your daughter's room is 50/50. Remember to always search your child's room for every square inch, because you do not know where the kidnapper is hiding. Is it the closet? Under the bed? Maybe in the toy box? Perhaps that dark corner covered in dust? THE MICKEY MOUSE ALARM CLOCK??? They could be anywhere because kidnapper’s expert in two things: kidnapping and fitting in small places. Keep your eyes peeled.

Don’t provoke or let your close friends and family provoke potential kidnappers. This is usually how most kidnappings start and it is very simple to avoid through proper training. First of all, if it is completely unnecessary to anger mentally ill people, then please do not do so. Then, if your friends are considering angering mentally ill people, try to persuade your friend not to. Remember, you can’t get AIDS if you don’t do the humpin!

Do not associate with unstable people that have mental illnesses. This is just like the tip above: you will most likely get kidnapped if everyone you hang around with are kidnappers. To remember this tip, just imagine another AIDS scenario: you will most likely get AIDS if your only friends are horny people who have AIDS. Kidnappers usually look like the folks on the left. Just look at that guy’s hair. It’s screaming, “Watch out! I will kidnap your firstborn for slavery and your next child for a stew!” Stay away from these people!

Try not to help your kidnappers. The more you help your kidnappers, the more you will associate yourself to them and grow emotionally attached. It has been scientifically proven, so it’s not just me being a complete maniac. What’s more, you may even fall in love with your kidnappers because of the tense situation and sexual appeal all kidnappers have. Remember, a relationship with kidnappers is basically a way to say to society – “Hey everyone! I am a complete retard and I especially like living the life of a sewer rat! I express this love with my sexual encounters with kidnappers, rapists, and other scourges of society like Mike Tyson and Bill O’Reiley!”

Do not listen to what your kidnappers say. People may disagree with me on this, but this is why they are dead. Dead from kidnapping. Kidnappers are a weak and cowardly lot, who have to follow a set plan of action. If everything fails on them, they will loose their spirit, break down, and curl themselves in a ball, weeping. “But what about that SAW guy or any other movie villain Mr. Assman Representative?” you ask, and I’ll tell you: they are all the same. Say you refused to play the SAW guy’s game. What’s going to happen? YOU WILL RUIN THE MAN’S FUN. Think about this: if every victim is so pacifist, so unwavering in their inanimateness, eventually there will be no good victims; he will completely loose interest, and THE SAW GUY WILL DIE OF CANCER. By sacrificing your life you will be saving MILLIONS because the old dude with the voice will finally die.

Always struggle and make a mess of yourself. When you wake up from your dazed sleep, almost certainly you will be bound and gagged. Your kidnapper’s first word, almost certainly, will be, “Don’t even try. Just save your energy.” That’s where they’re wrong! Remember, when you don’t listen to what your kidnapper’s say, you will force them to rethink their plans. So what you should do is writhe around, shake, kick them in the groin, and vomit endlessly until the overwhelming stench of sweat and excrement will drive your kidnapper’s mad. If your kidnappers are smart, they will cut their losses and drop you off in a dumpster somewhere. A dumpster…OF FREEDOM.

Put your kidnapper down all the time. I don’t know about you, but I certainly wouldn’t like to be called a “Fu**ing homo” 24/7. It is just really damaging to a person’s self-esteem.


These are just a few tips to keep you safe and sound for the upcoming holiday season. Remember, you can trust the Assmen to DELIVER, because we care.

DAMN YOU!!

Al Yen


What is your problem? Huh?? You don’t post comments, you don’t leave a message, you don’t send e-mails or anything. What’s up??? I thought we had something, you and I.

Is it because I smell? I’ll have you know packs of dogs converge on me because of my breathtaking scent. You think I’m lying? Take a look at THIS!



HA! There! You see? Animals love me and I love animals. The only thing that I love more is smelling good and I smell DAMN GOOD.

What? Do you hate me because of my scar? How shallow – I thought you were bigger than that. Talk about a hypocrite! “I only care about inner beauty,” MY ASS! I told you on DAY ONE about it! I told you, “Please, don’t patronize me. I know about my scar, you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s only insulting to the both of us the more you pretend. I mean, the scar is literally 2 inches wide and goes right down the middle of my face, like my face had its own asshole. I don’t think a blind guy could miss it.”

You laughed, you laughed and you promise me that you liked me; ass-face or not. Liar.

Maybe it’s my job you hate, is that it? You have to understand, I am just not suited for science or law or business or, I dunno, moving my legs. Don’t you think I want to cut people and sell stuff? Of course I do! I’d be happy working for Hitler if it means raking in big bucks! I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry I can’t be everything you wanted. I can’t cook, I can’t clean, I can’t watch TV. or talk to you about stuff because I just can’t. I can love you and keep you company whenever you want but I guess that isn’t good enough for you.

It’s my personality, isn’t it? You don’t like how I act. I don’t get you, I really don’t. I mean, you come over and you spend minutes, sometimes HOURS with me. You don’t seem to mind. Heck, you go to me whenever you’re bored! Every time you are with me you laugh and you giggle and you stare. Isn’t it possible that in the slightest way there is some kind of emotional connection? Huh?? It’s not MY fault I act this way! You encouraged me with your song and dance!

CURSE YOU! You lead me on, like the tease you are, and you leave and don’t send word days at a time. I am NOT your SLAVE. I am NOT your WHORE. I have feelings and thoughts, like any human being but NOOOO! You can’t even PRETEND that I’m human. Why not? You love pretending so much, why can’t you pretend I’m important?

Alright, I admit it, I’m a friggin website. Not even that, I am a BLOG. So what? If you were even slightly compassionate you’d leave me a comment. It’s not like you don’t already! Yeeeeaaaah, that’s right! I know about what you do and your sleazy commenting! You sure do write a lot for that WHORE Myspace! Oh ho ho ho, CATS OUT OF THE BAG, ISN’T IT??

Hey, HEY – don’t EVEN deny it. I have you on tape plus reports from some VEEERY reliable sources! Who’s playing who now??? This whole time you were PROSTITUTING yourself around the internet and you thought I wouldn’t find out! I KNEW ALL ALONG!!! The tables have turned! This time, I’m doing the playing and you are doing the play-ed.

Yeah that’s right. Feel that guilt. Thaat’s right, you should be sorry! It’s YOUR fault I am so insecure. Go ahead; leave me a comment! Lord knows you should do SOMETHING to get out of hell! Yeeeah, I’ll be smiling and partying with hot people in heaven while you’re down in hell burning it up with ugly people like Jabba the Hutt and that girl from the Grudge. Leave a comment – don’t leave a comment – I DON’T CARE!

You don’t DESERVE me!

Tales From Compton University!

Al Yen

Compton! Compton University!

A few years into the future a misguided wealthy individual will decide to establish a fantastic university. This university will be comprised of 6 colleges; all furnished with the finest décor, housing the nation’s greatest teachers. No other university on the face of the earth will be as grand as this one. However, the billionaire is a foreigner and mistakenly builds it in Compton, California!

Compton! Compton University!

Today’s episode: Admissions Interview!
--------------

European Guy: I am interested in attending your school.

Admissions Guy: Absolutely! First, please, tell me a little bit about yourself.

Euro Guy: I wasn’t raised in the best atmosphere. My parents were both house servants to a wealthy ambassador’s family. They were my adoptive parents. My birthparents, I have never personally met. The orphanage agency said they sold me for a few dollars and a pack of cigarettes.

Ad. Guy: How tragic.

Euro Guy: I worked most of my life. Through my own determination was I able to earn an education. In between whippings from my parents and delivering goat’s milk for my customers, I read books and self-taught myself math. I registered for professions school New Years Eve after I got my parents inebriated.

Ad. Guy: How resourceful.

Euro Guy: But I couldn’t even go. They wouldn’t let me into chimney-sweep class because I was short two quids. The next day, admissions officers threw me out. I sat at their gates for a week, begging to let me in. I watched my left hand freeze and fall off that Saturday.

Ad. Guy: I see.

Euro Guy: The month after I gave up is shrouded in darkness. I remember drinking a lot. I was barely sober enough to watch the television one day, and I saw an episode of Friends, where the tall Jewish one was teaching a class before the short funny one barged in. I cried. I cried because it was the funniest thing I ever saw in my life. I continued learning, because one day I wanted to teach in America, so maybe, just maybe, my short gay friend can barge into my class.

Ad. Guy: How touching.

Euro Guy: It was the happiest day of my life, hiding in the airplane’s luggage compartment. I remember clearly being bitten by those nice dogs and cavity searched by those policemen. They let me stay when I threatened to kill myself. I heard that this school was new and open to everyone, so I applied. I want to realize my dream, sir.

Ad. Guy: (With tears in his eyes) Son, we’d be glad to have you onboard. Welcome to America, son.

Euro Guy: Thank you! Thank you so much, sir!

Ad Guy: You can start tomorrow! Room and board free of charge!

Euro Guy: (Shakes hands) Thank you sir! Finally, some luck in my life! (Walks out) When I hit it big, I will remember you, sir! You won’t regret this!

Ad Guy: See that I don’t! (Shares laughs)

*KABLAMMO!*

Euro Guy: Ah! AAH! I’ve been shot! Oh god help me!

(Ad Guy runs away.)
----------------

Compton! Compton University!

Thank you for joining us at Compton University! See you next time!

Compton! Compton University!

The Power of Apathy

Wakington Field


I have been inspired by Hoss' post, and my own maniacal madness, to post something in this newfound hobby of a blog. This excerpt draws from experiences gained from those around me, which includes idiots as well as genuises.

How to Be Apathetic
The easiest way to become apathetic is to simply not care about anything. Find hobbies. Go watch TV, watch anime, play guitar, or just do nothing in general. It really isn't that hard. It's quite simpel in fact. aby writing in this blog right now, I am being slightly apathetic. You may also reference Hoss's procrastination article to gain inspiration. The most common ways to avoid thinking are to respond; that is, to be mentally passive and absorb everything in front of you. For example, one may want to eat, hang out with friends, watch movies, or go to the mall. All these ways work like miracles.

Why Apathy Works
To tell the truth, I really don't know if it does work. It certainly isn't proven anywhere in any book that I've read, or in any acclaimed study. Thus I pass it for my own. When one doesn't care about anything, one does not care. It's as simple as that. There are no worries whatsoever. Stress is meaningless and ceases to exist. Remember, the definition of apathy is uncaring. This is rather obvious.

Apathy may work wonders in genuises. For example, my friend doesn't care about anything. He procrastinates and does everything minimally, but still gets decent grades. Living a stress-free live, he frolicks within. Without the stress most people incur from school, this person easily absorbs information. The key is to be simple-minded. Stress complicates everything; apathy does the opposite. With less mental complications, the free mind can explore new information and remember it up to 50% better than if he had stress. That number is false, of course, but you get the point.
Apathy is Great, But Not For Everyone Simply but, if you can succeed with apathy and you fail without it, then take this course of action. But if you cannot, and must study vigorously everyday, do yourself a favor and keep it that way. Pragmatism decrees a following of working tradition.

Secrets to Success

by Hoson To

*WARNING: DO NOT TRY THESE AT HOME. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY RESULTS OR DAMAGES THAT MAY AND WILL OCCUR FROM YOU ATTEMPTING ANY OF MY TECHNIQUES. THESE RESULTS MAY INCLUDE, BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO, FAILURE IN ALL CLASSES, LOWERING OF GPA, FAMILY DISHONOR, DEEP STRESS AND DEPRESSION, OR FAILURE TO GET INTO A COLLEGE OF YOUR CHOICE.

Most of you probably know that I am a hardcore slacker. Yet I somehow maintain a pretty high GPA and do surprisingly well in all my classes. Well, for the first time ever, I will reveal the secrets to my success.

Play first, Work Second. I come home from school, and the first thing I do is not homework. I take several hours to relax, whether it be playing some games, surfin the net, watching the television, or playing the piano. This assures that I am unstressed and relaxes me for the rest of the day for homework or even more relaxing.

Quantity under Quality. Frankly, I don't quite understand this phrase myself. But the point is that I do the bare minimum requirement for everything. That means I only do things that will be graded. That's why I never read or study. No teacher can possibly chart studying time. Thus, I see no point in it. For example, you don't necessarily have to read a book to write an essay about it. If you're supposed to not summarize anyway, and if you just have to know the elements of the novel, just become familiar with the theme or characters off some site like sparknotes.com or pinkmonkey.com. PS, I also like to half-ass, or BS, everything I do.

Time Management. I know my own capabilities very well and know how much time I need to do any assignment. As a result, I never do things early, which gives me time to enjoy life and sit around. Time perception also plays a big role. For example, if you start your homework at eight o'clock, you actually have up to eleven hours to finish, because it's eleven hours until school starts. I would say that eleven hours is a hella lot of time. Also, there is the time in between class periods, and calculus class, which entails no classwork, meaning time for other work. I study only a maximum or thirty minutes before a test, and I study only up to twenty minutes at a time. The key to tests, except for math tests, is memorization. When you memorize something twenty minutes ago, you can recall it much easier that something you memorized the night before.

To Stress or Not to Stress. Don't stress. You will feel better and you will get things done. Plus, you won't be feeling down or worried all the time, which sucks.

Thank God. I thank the heavens for blessing me with a brain that can understand and learn things so quickly, and retain information too. It is completely responsible for the natural genius-ness in my being. However, I do feel a little guilty because I have exploited my brain to hell. My laziness is a result of knowing that I don't have to do the work, because my brain will. I salute you brain, and keep up the excellent work, or else we're both screwed.

Cherrylee Runners

Irvin Rodriguez
Dedicated to Robin Chan!

I became what I am today at the age of 5, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1992. I remember the moment, crouching in the back seat of a broken down Toyota, peeking out to the alley near the strip club in the Eastern Section of the City of Angels. As the images move by, I waved goodbye to the place that was once my home. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past. I’ve learned about how you can burry it, because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking out to that deserted alley for the past thirteen years.

December 1992
Man: Hey, boy! What are you doing there? Why are you in that alley?! Where are your parents? Why do you dwell here alone?

Irv: Yo… yo no se ingles señor, yo me llamo Irvin.

Man: YOU DAMN MEXICAN!! GO BACK TO MEXICO!

He then threw a rock at me… which explains the following…

Irv: Fuck you señor! Eat shit you fuck face! I DO KNOW ENGLISH!

I then ran up to the man and kicked him in the crotch.

Man: Ahhhh!! My gentiles! I’m going to get you, you damn little twerp!

Days later, the Lost Angeles Riot Started… Luckily, I was able to blame it on the African American community, and the Anglo’s sought revenge from the black communities. War waged in my home, the City of Angels wailed in agony destruction raged on. The LAPD was powerless to put in any effort, for they were held back by the long waiting line at Krispy Kreme Donuts. My mother was horrified by the tragic riot, and thought that the blacks would seek the Hispanic community next. To counter such an event, we fled to a town not too far called El Monte.

January 1993

Robin: Hi there boy with the hair that is the color of my skin, my name is Robin Chang. I am a smart Asian, and when I grow up, I will make a fortune bigger than Bill Gate’s. The name on the papers shall be…. ROBIN CHAN! I can see it now….

Irvin: Hi Robin, my name is Irvin. Although I may look white, I really am of Hispanic bloodlines, but whenever I am ashamed to admit it, I just say I’m white. Very ambitious, I must say my dear friend. How about we go play with those there Kanex! They look oh so fun!

Robin: Sure, let me just move Deanna out of the way…. BOOSTA!

Deanna: Ouch! You didn’t have to push me so hard….

Irvin: My deepest apology, my dear… Deanna, however, the desire to play with these is awfully overwhelming… Hi, my name is Irvin by the way…

I never knew why I did this… every time I would come to meet someone, I would always throw in at the end of the point I tried to convey, Hi, my name is Irvin by the way. Almost as if my identity were second rate, not good enough to open a sentence up, or simply not interesting enough.

Irv: Hey, who’s that kid over there? The one playing with the puzzle…

Deanna: That’s Mathew. He’s very shy. He likes puzzles a lot. He’s been working on that one for about a month.

Irv: But it’s only a twelve piece puzzle…

Robin: Wow! You can count to twelve!! *Thinks to himself “This little bastard might be a threat to me later on… I must assassinate him*

I walk up to Mathew

Irv: Hi there, I am told that you go by the name… Mathew?

Pika: Yes, that’s right! What’s it to ya…

Irv: What is it to me? Why sir… it is a name which identifies you, a branch out of your soul, a name that you have carried with you from the moment of your birth ‘till eternity.

Moment of silence

Irv: Say…that puzzle looks rather entertaining, may I join you?

Pika: Sure… a splendid idea…

Ten minutes later, Pika was in tears…

Irv: Mathew… awww, don’t cry. It’s quite alright, I’m sure that last puzzle piece is in a better place…

Pika: *sob* *sob* But…. *sob* I really… *sob* wanted to… *sob* SEE THE KITTY! *breaks into uncontrollable crying*

1995 Spring
I met the child Alexander Voulkofsky Yennon in the third grade. It was a match of handball… and oh boy, did my hands direct something at his balls….

Stacy: LET’S ALL PLAY HANDBALL!

Jose: Ok… everyone line up!

As the game went on, every child was sent out… and an amazing display of handball was shown by Alexander and me… and soon only we remained. The game seemed endless. I endured the longest game I had ever fought, and out of my frustration…

Irvin: FUCK THIS!

I hit a bullet, and it went directly to Al’s crotch.

Oh man… uh… are you alri ght there?

Al: (In agony) Ohhh…… my balls… my wee-wee… ohh! Why oh why you MERCILESS BUDAH! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!

Irvin: I am deeply sorry, I… I fear I know not what overcame me…

Al: (Still, in agony) AHHHHH!!! THE PAIN!

At the time, we were not as well informed as a sixth grader was in the sexual organs one had, and we did not yet know why it was so much pain was inflicted upon a human when that specific area was hurt, and up to this very day I question why… Why lord, why do our balls hurt so badly when something with an unbelievable force comes into contact with it? Why is it that the Chinese could get their enemies to say what they wished by simply emitting electrical impulses to send shock to ones genitals? I doubt I will ever know, for the major I seek is no where in the field of science…

September 1999
It wasn’t until our sixth grade year, that Robin, Alexander, and I made such a strong bond. This bond was unbreakable. We enjoyed moments of wrestling, writing comic books, and by golly we made the funniest shi’ite around!

Boredom in the Lunch line…
Irv: Damni! I declare war on your ass damnit! Robin… your ass is grass me friend!

Robin: I am afraid not, for you see, I take all the Japanese video games ever made, and all of use combined shall take your ass down!

Irv: Oh yea, well, I will take every single video game any OTHER people made and we… shall… kick ass!

Robin: No one is match for my Super Mario Brothers, for, even though they are Italian, they were born in Japan baby… Mario Brothers attack!

Irv: Ahhh! I’ve been hit. We’ll see about that! Go…. Holly shit! Americans never made video games, I’m in deep shit now! Think Irvin…. think… GO SUPERMAN! Kick those damn Italian wimps ass! What’s this? They appear to have switched sides?! Ha! It seems they never gave up that back-stabbing Italian side of theirs…

Robin: Oh no! Errr…. GO SONIC! KICK SOME BUT! USE THOSE… thingies, you know, the ones on your back… TO DEFEAT THEM ONCE AND FOR ALL!

Irv: Go Mario brothers! Use that fireball thing, now! Burn his ass… like um… GRASS!

Robin: Ah…. POKEMON! GO! All 150 of you! Attack!

Irv: Holy gingersnaps! Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Hulk, Superman, Iron Man…. Uh… uhh, holy shit they near us! Um… DIGIMON, go!

Now, I know, Digimon where also Japanese, but no one had to know that… It was a long, imperishable, imaginary battle that seemed to never end, and then…

Al: Ahh… you guys, not again. Stop this, oh screw this, I’ll stop this once and for all. PIKACHU, THUNDERBOLT IRVIN’S ASS! (Pikachu the pokemon, not Mathew Marquez…)

Naturally, them both sharing the Asian heritage, they were going to team up against me, like a pack of wolves who team up against a helpless deer in a winter storm. Then, before the battle could even end, the line kept moving, and we went in to get our lunch. Then Nintendo got the awesome idea to make Super Smash Brothers, shortly after, and I wonder where they got the idea to do so…
Another sport that we followed very passionately was the sport of GERMAN DODGEBALL! Just the word German gives on a sense of fright, the type on might get when they are about to be placed inside of a gas chamber….

Dodgeball 1998
This was a year before the whole battle in the 6th grade. Al and I had unmatchable skills in the sport of dodgeball….

It was the fifth graders versus the sixth graders, and us being considerably smaller, we were expected to lose… but ooooohhh did we fight the odds. We went to Mountain of Valhala, plucked an ass-hair off the ass of a dead Viking, ran around the world and clicked our heels three times…

Only Al and I remained….

Irv: Al, we must be strong, and work together, AND WE MIGHT BE THE FIRST CLASS TO BEAT THE SIXTH GRADERS!

Al: Ok… you take care of the throwing, I take care of the catching, we can do this! Oh yea!

Robin: Boosta!!!

Al: Ugh! You’re out Kenny! Whoops! I seemed to have tripped; I sure do hope that Irvin catches the ball… Irvin… IRVIN!!!!! STOP FLIRTING DAMNIT! GET THE BALL!

Irv: Oh snaps! Yoink! Caught ‘cha! AH!

Irv and Al: Yes! PAUL IS OUT!! We almost won this!

Robin: Boosta!!

We ended up beating the sixth graders twice, and twice it went down to Al and me to save the day…

Wrestlemania 2000
As we an older age, we noticed our stronger bodies could do much more than they were capable of doing before. We began to wrestle. I was most interested in the Cruiser Weight Championship, Al wanted the Hardcore Championship, and Robin wanted the World Heavyweight Championship. I was lucky enough to have held all three of these, and both the Hardcore and Cruiser Weight Championship simultaneously.

I held the Cruiser Weight Championship title two separate times, for I won it to hold it for the first time, lost it, and won it back.

Announce: Oh, no! What’s this?! Irvin seems to have taken down Mark. All he must do now is pin him. OH NO! HE’S WORKING IN THE WALLS OF JERRICHO!

Robert M comes running down towards the match…

Announcer: What’s this? Ahh! Irvin has just been kicked off of Mark… Oh no! Robert is going to “Rock Bottom” Irvin. OH! Irvin punches him in the spleen, and he works in a DDT! IRVIN NOW HAS PUT THE WALLS OF JERRICHO ON ROBERT! OH DEAR THIS IS MAYHAM! Lady’s and gentlemen, this is one spectacular match… incredible… Oh…Mark has gotten up, he’s still half dazed. Irvin picks him up, OH, HE’S SETTING UP FOR A SPINEBUSTER! OH GOD HE’S ON A RAMPAGE! Oh Lord. Look at this, HE’S CLIMBING THE CHAIN FOR A SENTON BOMB! Oh! He landed it! He goes down for the pin. One… two… three!! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!!!!

That was one hell of a moment, and I thought I was unstoppable. Then came along Robert Villa, who took away the title with the help of Mr. Mark Cruz. However, to win it back, I had to face them both in a deadly Triple Threat Match.

Announce #1: Hello, and welcome ladies and gentlemen, to Summer Slam of 2000! I tell you, we feared the bug Y2K, but now we fear the Walls of Y2J!!!

Announcer #2: This is going to be a phenomenal match up, I believe it it’s the first Triple Threat Match here at Cherrylee…
Announcer #2: That is right… and entering the arena now is Mark Cruz!!!

Announcer #1: I say… many favor him to win this title today! He was the reason that Villa has the title today… he should be grateful!

Announcer #2: I agree… oh, and entering now is Irvin Rodriguez!

Announcer #1: Oh… he is a spectacular wrestler, too bad that he is not like by many… It was an incredible show he gave when he wont the title, although sometimes one might challenge his choices in the ring to be rather… stupid?

Announcer #2: I call it… daring! And entering now is… ROBERT VILLA! THE CRUISER WEIGHT CHAMPION!

Announcer #1: Not the best wrestler in the group, but certainly the favorite of all… He is like for his looks, rather than his skill.

Announcer #2: He’s going to need more than looks to win this match…

Bell Rings

Announcer #1: And the match has started!

We beat each other senseless… every ounce of strength in our body in order to win that title. Since Villa and Mark were friends, they decided tot team up on me, but when the time to pin me came, neither one would let the other do so, and ultimately ended up fighting amongst themselves. When I finaly regained my strength back, I allowed the two combatants to battle it out for a great while… then I interfered…

Announcer #2: Oh, what’s this? Irvin has gone up to the rope! He’s going to go for a Senton Bomb! Oh! He has landed on both of the fighters! Oh… and he kicks Villa on the side!

Announcer #1: That must have hurt!

Announcer #2: Oh… and he is going to win this by a tap out?! He PUT IN THE WALLS OF JERRICHO ON VILLA! Villa is about to tap out!!!

Announcer #1: Oh!! And Mark delivers a Clothesline from Hell! Mr. Villa seems to be out!!! Oh, now Mark gets Irvin, it looks like he is going to spine buster him… Irvin is up in the air….

Announcer #2: Oh lord! This might be over… OHH! IRVIN REVERSED IT!! DDT! DDT! OMG! WE MIGHT HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! WE MIGHT HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! He gets the PIN! One… two…

Announcer #1: Oh no… Villa is up… and Villa goes to break the count…

Announcer #2: THREE! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION! THE MATCH HAS ENDED.

Announcer #1: And Villa delivers a blow to the groin to Irvin! CAPITALIZATION!! And now he begins to beat what is left of Mark…

After the match, I snuck away… and happy that I won the title. My companion Al Beat Arturo Chavira, and won the Hardcore Title, and Robin beat Mathew Sandeval for the World Heavyweight Championship. We later went on to for the APA… Acolyte Protection Agency, and provided “assistance” to those in help in return for milk cartons and lunch. We even got Robert Villa to give us his lunch for a week in assistance in his restroom match. He was battling a Fierce Four-Way Match for the World Championship Title. This was after Robin had lost it, and refused to attempt to win it back. We were eating lunch, when we walked by the restroom, and found that Robert Villa had lost the title. He was screaming “Beka has big boobies” at the top of his lungs, yet to no avail… Our battle cry we had agreed on did not reach our ears, and he lost his title.

Summer 2000
It was the summer of 2000, the end of our Cherrylee years, that Robin, Al, and I had to finally part. Al and I would always remain friends, however, Robin had to part us and seek a higher education than us. Destiny called, a force much greater than we would ever be able to understand. And as we shared a final moment of grief, tears, and memories of the fond past we shared, we had one last group huddle, one last group BOOSTA, and one last hand shake and goodbye. We never saw Robin after that….

Many would say that was the end of a great friendship, but really, that was the start of something great, a force mightier than the sword… The Assmen….

¡Dios Mios! ¡Que Lastima!

The Elardo Shrine

A License To Kill A Mockingbird

Al Yen

There comes a time in every man’s life…

Hoss: Victor, as your mental superior I strongly advise you to part ways with Tina.

Victor: Don’t you think I want to? It’s just so difficult. She’s just… just so… so strong…

Al: Victor, as your physical superior I strongly advise you to stop being such a fragile girly-boy.

Victor: It’s not easy you know! You’ve got your muscles and look what I got! Nothing! It droops DOWN when I flex!

Tom: Victor, as your handsome superior I strongly advise you to sex up someone tougher than Tina.

Victor: Won’t that get me into even BIGGER trouble?

Pika: Victor, as your Asiatic superior I strongly advise you to outdo her with enough community service to make her loopy and wacky and woo!

Victor: What? Heck no. I ain’t going nowhere. I have homework! Hey wait a minute, you’re not even Asian.

Brian: Victor, as your aromatic superior I advise you to KISS MY ASS. I HAVE A GUN!

Victor: …WHAT???

Alison: Victor, as your masculine superior I strongly advise you take charge. Be the man for a change.

Victor: Oh my god.

Where he must weather the elements…

Victor: Listen Tina, it’s over. We knew from the first day that this could not last. We knew that. No, no come on. Don’t be like that. I mean, we can still be friends, right? Look, I’ll still be around. I mean, I practically see you every day as it is. No please, please don’t cry. I – I just feel like we need some space. I have things to work out and I feel that it has to be done by myself. We’ll always have NHS, right?

And brace himself for the tempest ahead...

Pika: Oh, uh hey Tina. Are you all right about all that stuff with Victor and all that.

Tina: Yes. Why would you think anything would be wrong?

Pika: I didn’t say that! I swear I didn’t say anything! A hee hee hee hee :p

Tina: Besides, it’s not over between us. In fact, it’s far from over. FAR.

Pika: Hee hee hee ha ha ha ha hoo hoo hoo hoo :D :D :p

When he must fight his way to the mountain tops…

Victor: Guys, I’m really scared. There has been strange sounds happening in my house at night. I thought it could’ve been D or Karen at their midnight romps or something but I don’t think it is.

Hoss: What do you mean?

Victor: I mean things have been happening. When I wake up in the morning the stuff I have on my shelves and in my room are all misplaced. My computer is overloaded with all of this anime stuff and all of my community service shirts have been jacked.

Al: Good god. What could this mean?

Victor: I don’t know guys, I just have this really bad feeling that it could be- - -

Tom: Look I’m sure it’s nothing, it’ll all blow over soon enough.

And carve out his own heroic path…

Tom: What’re we gonna do about this whole Victor situation?

Al: The question is not WHAT we are going to do, good sir – but WHAT we ARE going To do.

Hoss: Uh… …huh???

Al: Exactly the point.

Tom: … … …Wait, what?

Al: What we have to do, friends is what we have to do! And we have to do it the way we want it with the way we’ve always been doing it. We’ll do what we have to do when we want to do it and where we want to do it. That’s what we will have to do when we do it.

Pika: Oh my god I better write this down.

Al: Friends, when Victor joined our little family we promised him a lifetime of coverage and fellowship in exchange for his soul and a pack of Bubbleyum. Though it was an unwritten contract we Assmen take pride in keeping our promises. Now in his time of need, we must absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, eliminate the problem.

Hoss: Whoa whoa whoa. Wait a minute. Back it up. Beep beep beep! Are you proposing that we KILL Tina?

Tom: Beep beep beep? Are we doing sound effects now?

Al: No, we are not doing sound effects!

Pika: Bzzt! I have a question! Who in their right mind considers murder an alternative to a plausible solution?

Tom: Bzzt! I agree. We really shouldn’t result to such drastic measures.

Hoss: DING DING DING! He’s got a point!

Al: … … …SHUT UP.

Amongst the heroes of destiny…

Victor: Please. Is there anyway you can help me out of this one?

Al: Ah… you come to me asking for a favor, yet you talk to me without a bit of respect. What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you’d come to me in friendship, then this whole unruly business would’ve been over with. Someday – and that day may never come – I’ll call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day, accept this justice as a gift in behalf of Harry Potter day.

Victor: Grazi. Grazi Assfather. Oh by the way, if you don’t mind me asking – what exactly do you plan to do about my problem?

Al: Why, the only thing that CAN be done at a time like this. We’re going to a haunted house!

Victor: Oh. But wait how is that supposed to- - -

Al: No need to be overly grateful Victor! We’re like brothers now! HA HA HA HA. Now get out of my office. I need to fart.

Victor: … … …

It’ll be up to a ragtag group of riffraffs…

Al: Alright guys, I think it’s best to split up. That way we’ll cover more ground and probably find Irvin’s mangled corpse faster.

Hoss: I agree. Let’s attach ourselves with this tether so that we won’t be lost.

Tim: Good idea. There’s no way this tether can restrict our movement or lead to our demise! Despite the fact that this tether is very thin and can be cut just by pulling on it a bit too hard and that whatever spirit haunts this place can easily trace each and every one of us with the tether; and that Hoss found that tether from a glass case marked “Cursed Tether” – I am absolutely confident that this idea has no flaws at all.

Victor: Oh hell no. You guys ain’t going anywhere. I know how these things turn out. It’s always the black guy that goes first. Well ok, Irvin wasn’t really black but he did make a lot of black jokes so yeah. Then next is the nerd and I’m the nerd! Uh uh! No sir! I ain’t splitting up nowhere! I… guys? Guys???

To stand between all that is pure and good…

Denny: Hey guys look, an umbrella.

Al: Oh dawg, you best not be opening that. It is just a bit too much like Hoss’ crazy ideas. And when something of Hoss’ starts making sense then you know you’re in trouble.

Denny: Oh c’mon Al, this umbrella is nothing. Look. See? Nothing bad at all?

Al: Denny, Irvin’s corpse just dropped out of that thing.

Denny: No wonder it was so heavy.

And everything vile and evil…

Victor: GUYS! Come back! Where’d you go? Oh wait, I’m tethered aren’t I? All I gotta do is follow this string here… … … UH! Ow. What the hell did I bump into?

Dark: Ergghhh

Victor: Eeeeeeeeeekkkkkk!!!!

Dark: BLARGH!!

Victor: GUYS! GUYS! HELLLP!

Hoss: Ah ah ah! I didn’t hear anyone say “Assemble!”

Victor: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Hoss: C’mon! Say it!

Victor: Mmph… blah! Assmen! Assemb- - - - -

Hoss: … … … … … …saaay it!

And even the stuff in between…

Al: You think I’m afraid of a little girl with dirty hair? I fought in ‘NAM you little whore! I’ve EATEN things worse that YOU.

Hoss: OH MY GOD, I CAN’T FEEL MY LEGS!

Tim: Quick Denny! You have to throw the charge!

Denny: But Hoss is trapped! We gotta go back in there!

Tim: We have orders damn you! Hoss would’ve wanted you to do the job!

Hoss: NO I DON’T! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE! OH JESUS IT IS SUCKING OUT MY KIDNEYS!!

Denny: Ahhhhhhhhh!!

KABOOM!!!!

Tim: It’s… it’s over Denny… it’s over…

Al: You… YOU! You killed Hoson you bastard! DARGGH!!

Tim: Al stop! STOP! Oh god please he’s already dead!

Al: Ah. Ah… ahh… … … hey look, a note. “Victor is mine.” Hmm, I wonder what this could mean.

Or else face the consequences…

Victor: What – what’re you going to do to me?

Tina: Isn’t it obvious?

Victor: No. You took away my glasses and made me wear a mask.

Tina: Look the point of the matter is that we’re going to make sure we never get separated again.

Victor: Oh no.

Tina: Oh YES! We’re having a shotgun wedding at the only place where shotgun weddings are still legal. Victor, you and I are going to Mexico.

Victor: Mommy…

For the fate of all humanity…

Tim: We’re in it deep now guys. I quit.

Al: Dammit Tim, this is not the time to be quitting!

Pika: I dunno Alex, quitting sure sounds good right now.

Al: What about Victor?

Tim: What about him!

Al: He’s one of us dammit! We have to save him. It’s in our sacred constitution.

Hoss: Not anymore.

Al: Oh dammit, don’t tell me Irvin stole our constitution again.

Irvin: Hey, if you wanted it so bad you shouldn’t of left it outside.

Al: I’m going to kill you!! Arrgh!

Irvin: Ahhyahh!!

Hoss: QUIET!! *Takes a deep puff of smoke* Ahhhh… I know what to do.

Rests in their filthy monkey paws…

Hoss: See what we do is hit Tina’s back light like THIS.

Pika: Wait, Hoson how is this supposed to solve anything?

Hoss: So that when she goes driving to Mexico the crossing guards will question her about the light and when they hear Victor in the trunk struggling they’ll immediately arrest her.

Tim: How in the hell did you know she was taking Victor to Mexico?

Hoss: I IMed her last night. I pretended I was Bryan and had a terrible case of hemorrhoids that could only be cured by someone telling me a secret.

For in a world full of mystery…

Officer: Hello lady. I pulled you over for a busted tail light.

Tina: Oh dear.

Officer: Yep, that tail light right there. Ya-hum. This is the taillight.

Victor: MMMPPPH ARF MOOF

Officer: What’s that sound?

Tina: Nothing.

Officer: Ma’am, please pop your trunk.

Tina: Why? There’s nothing in there. Nope. Nothing.

Officer: Ma’am PLEASE.

Tina: Oookay but I don’t see the reason wh- SEE YOU LATER, SUCKER!

When nothing is what it seems…

Hoss: Okay Tina, I’ll take your case for you. It’s a good thing you came to me because Victor’s attorney is Al and we all know how good of an actor that guy is.

Tina: Good. But if anything goes wrong you can believe that I’ll be after you.

Hoss: Do not worry. I assure you that I… will not… lose… this… case…

Who’re you gonna call???

Al: Judge we only need one real witness, and that is Tina Tran. Not Victor. Cause I mean he couldn’t see anything as it is.

Judge: Very well. Miss Tina Tran, please take the stand.

Al: Now Miss Tran, tell me is it true that you abducted my client with lustful abandon?

Tina: No.

Al: And is it true that you intended to forcefully marry my client by gunpoint?

Tina: No.

Al: And isn’t it true that while at the Mexican border you were involved in a high-speed chase that lasted for one hour before you collided with a donkey?

Tina: No.

Al: Are you trying to tell me that UNDER OATH you deny every single conviction placed upon you despite the fact that everything was caught on tape?

Tina: Yes.

Al: You are lying. LYING.

Hoss: Objection your honor Mr. Yen is badgering the witness!

Judge: Objection overruled

Al: No, YOU ARE OVERRULED.

Judge: Sir it will be better for you to simmer down before I hold you in contempt.

Al: You know what Judge? YOU ARE IN CONTEMPT. That bastard guy right there with the albino skin is in contempt! This woman sitting before me has so much contempt that it should be illegal! Oh my god that is a lot of contempt!

Judge: ORDER! ORDER I SAY!

Al: Psst, hey judge. Guess what. Your wife is a slut.

That’s right, the Assmen!

Hoss: Now Miss Tina. I know and I’m sure the jury knows that you are innocent. I mean, just look at that face, huh? Anyway, Miss Tina I will ask you a series of questions that require only a “yes” or a “no.” Is that ok with you?

Tina: Yes.

Hoss: Miss Tina, is it true that your car has enough mileage to get you from California to Mexico and back?

Tina: Yes.

Hoss: And isn’t it true that you have met Victor before?

Tina: Yes.

Hoss: Ahem, Miss Tina. Is it true that your trunk has enough space to fit a human body in there?

Tina: Uh… … …

Hoss: A simple yes or no, please.

Tina: …y-yes…

Hoss: Miss Tina, isn’t it true that you are stronger than Victor Banh?

Tina: … … …

Hoss: This is very crucial Miss, is it true that you are physically stronger than Mr. Banh???

Tina: Listen, you better not get any funny ideas or else I’m going to get you.

Hoss: Don’t worry, I got this handled. Just answer the question.

Tina: Uhm… … yes. Yes I am stronger than Mr. Banh.

Hoss: Very good. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case.

Everybody: WHAT???

Coming this Summer…

Judge: Are you sure about this Mr. Hoss?

Hoss: I…

ONE boy…

Hoss: REST…

ONE girl…

Hoss: MY…

ONE LIFE SENTENCE…

Hoss: CASE.


A LICENSE TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD

And So It Begins

Al Yen

This is it folks, the only other site you have to visit before logging off of your computer: The Assmen Blog.

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