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Tuesday, September 6, 2005

   Flint Marco: The Endtimes
Good day to you, good sir/madame, Welcome to the Red Lobster! My name is Flint, and I'll be your waiter this evening. Now, will you want a table or a booth?

Man, do I heart working on Labor Day. It seemed like the entire colective state of Texas stormed into the grocery store yesterday, and who was there to greet them but, your hero and mine, Flint Marco. People sure do buy lots of beer and fajitas on Labor day, I'll tell you that for nothing. Did I mention I love working on holidays?

I seriously don't have anything to write about today. Honestly. So, to make up for that fact, I'm going to spin you a tale. The story of when I went to an interview at a UPS warehouse. True story, too.

Okay, most of this story is bullshit, but I really got an interview with UPS that I totally botched, I swear. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...


The morning sun could barely be seen through the thick grey clouds of mid-February. An icy drizzle caked Flint's beer-colored Grand Am as he sped towards parts unknown, for a meeting he never wanted.

Flint fought his drowsiness with a mixture of cold air and blarring Marilyn Manson. He had a death grip on the steering wheel, driving like a madman down interstate 10. Through blurry vision and sleet, Flint saw the signs he'd been looking for: A big brown building, an army of brown trucks, and the sign he dreaded most:

United Parcel Service.

Flint parked in a packed lot. He wondered why the lot was so packed even though it was five in the morning. He soon got over it, and got out of the car. The weather was freezing for southeast Texas. The sleet felt like daggers against Flnt's freshly-shaven skull. He wished he would have brought a hat. Flint made his way through the enormous parking lot, which seemed to go on for miles. Soon, Flint got to the front gate. He saw a security guard, and decided to ask him some questions.

"Yo, cheif," Flint said, "I'm here for an interview. Where do I go?"

The guard slowly looked him over. He hesitated, then pulled out a radio. He said some things into it, then listened. He then looked at Flint.

"Wait here. There'll be others." He said.

Flint waited by a brick wall for three hours. The freezing cold wind slashed his face into frozen hamburger. Flint was soon joined by a man in his fifties, then by a man looking like he'd been living in a cave. Slowly, a group of malcontents, cutthroats and extras for a Mad Max film amassed beside him, waiting for their interview as well. Flint began to wonder if all this waiting was worth it.

Suddenly, the guard waved the group in. Flint led the mass of villiany into the imposing warehouse. The gates were lined with trucks, awaiting their pilots. Inside the warehouse, dozens of faceless drones threw around boxes and bags, never looking away from their work. The guard led them further and further into this den of despair. Flint's anxiety grew more and more as he witnessed horrors beyond his wildest nightmares. He saw what looked like a corpse hanging from the rafters. Bats as big as dogs flew around aimlessly. Ogres squashed helpless innocents and devoured their souls. Flint almost pissed himself.

The guard led them into a conference room. The group took seats where ever they could. The guard told them the boss would be with them in a moment.

Flint looked around the room. He hated what he saw. Still, he decided to make small talk.

"So, how's everyone?" He asked.

"Pretty good." A man looking exactly like Luigi of "Super Mario Bros." fame said.

The room suddenly turned to chaos. A man with a Road Warrior Hawk-style hairdo stabbed a smaller man in the corner. Another silenly robbed an older man, then slammed his skull into a water cooler. Men rioted and killed for no reason. Flint hid under a desk, terrified.

A giant man in a steel mask and cape burst into the room. Everyone froze. The man glared at all, with a look in his eyes that could freeze a grizzley bear. He threw out forms to everyone.

"Fill. Turn in. Leave." the man said.

The man left as quickly as he had come in. Flint quickly filled out his papers, and ran like a mad dog out to his car. He then drove at top speed from the UPS building, grateful his nightmare had finally ended. He didn't care that there was no interview, as was promised. He was just glad he escaped with his life and soul.


Well, a kinda true synopsis of something that happened last year. Fun, right?

See ya whenever.


Comments (3) | Permalink

Monday, August 29, 2005

   Crisis on Infinite Funs! Ask Mr. Marco returns!
Gewd day to you, my reading friends! I'm Flint Marco, and you're in my yard. It's Monday night, and wrasslin's on! Nothin' I like more than a healthy dose of pro graps!

Well, Flint's day was okay. How was yours? I ask, only because I care. I really had a super-boring day. Work was average, and I didn't do anything noteworthy afterward. Lo, but my life is pain...

Hey, kids! Ready for fun? You better be, sucka! 'Cause Here comes something I haven't done in ages, and I'm not sure I can even pull it off anymore! Brace yourself, 'cause here comes...


Little Timmy of Nevada writes:
Dear Mr. Marco, why did the freezer pack replace the regular twelve-pack?

Well, Timmy, this is a question that most of civilized society is asking. Like you, they miss the fat-packed, akwardly-shaped boxes filled with sodas beyond your wildest dreams. To understand the change however, you must go back in time...

The year is 1999. The big Noen Comeback was rearing it's ugly head. Robocop had not only put aside his war with the Terminator, but actually teamed up with him to fight crime. And, in downtown Chicago, a mobster's life would be saved in a most peculiar way. This gangster, dubbed "Tony Cola Fizz" was at his favorite bar, sucking down his mix of Mr. Pibb and Dr. Pepper, a most dangerous combination. Suddenly, a group of evil crime lords burst in, and began firing on Tony. Mr. Cola Fizz dived behind the counter, and grabbed a narrow box full of soda. It's rectangular shape made it easy to throw, and Tony used it to take out his would-be killers. He decided to use his ties with the cola industry to turn the normal fat boxes into rectangular "freezer packs". Sadly, Tony died a few weeks later due to a massive kidney stone.

Lulu from Oregon writes:
Dear Mr. Marco, there's a mean boy at school. He always picks on me and hits me, just because I'm a girl. How do I make it stop?

Lulu, my girl, all bullies are cowards. Simple as that. The reason this creature picks on you is because his life sucks. Have you looked at his shoes? Do you notice how one of his legs is biger than the other, and he hobbles when he walks? Not to mention that he's hideously ugly. Jesus, God hates this kid.

My advice to you, Lulu, is call out this boy, HBK-style. Meet him at the big school playground. And when you get the first chance, give him a taste of that Sweet Chin Music! NEXT!

Billy Bob from Maine writes:
Dear Mr. Marco, I've got a big school essay to finish by tommorow night. It counts for 60 percent of my overall grade this year. Problem is, I haven't even started yet! What do I do?!

Damn, kid. Sucks to be you.

Hee hee, what fun! Fun, thy name is Flint! You got a question for Flint? That's what the comment box is for.

See ya some other time.


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Sunday, August 28, 2005

   Bring Out'cha Fun! It's Post Time!
Good day to thee, reader o mine! I'm known to most simply as "The Man They Call Flint". It is currently Sunday afternoon.

Welp, Flint is known throughout the MyO world as the happy-go-lucky Man About Town. And if I'm not, then I fucking should be. Anyway, I also hold several unrecognized titles here in MyO. "What titles?", you ask? Well, I hold the FTmO World Heavyweight title, for one. Not enough? Well, I also hold the MyO tag belts with Andre the Giant. What's the point of all this? Filler, so this post seems longer. SWERVE!

Man, these days seem so depressing, huh? It seems like every time I do anything, something happens that's so terrible, I must reach for my trusty bottle of Hemlock, so my pain will mercifully end. How is Flint still amongst the living, you ask? I can assure you, I'm not mostly a zombie. Small pleasures keep Flint alive, friends. It's the little things that help Flint face the day. Small things, like:

-Corn Dogs! Porky, breaded fun on a stick!

-Donkey Kong! The war between man and monkey continues!

-RC Cola! Refreshing!

-Kung-Fu Movies! Kinda dumb, kinda awesome, always fun!

-Toyfare magazine! Funny!

-And Finally, Whataburger! What's that? You don't know what that is? That's 'cause it's only in Texas, bay-bee!

Yep, Flint Marco is a simple man, with simple needs. He's also kinda unstable.

See ya whenever.


Comments (5) | Permalink

Thursday, August 25, 2005

   Get Ready for Fun! Posts, Fresh off the Griddle!
.yadseuT si yadoT !sdneirf, worrom dooG

Now, I'm positive that means something Satanic, but I'm still trying to figure it out.

Anyway, welcome to yet another edition of... well, posting by Flint. How was your day? Mine was okay. As far as days go, it was pretty sub-par, but I can't complain.

I'm watching wrestling right now. I mean, as I'm writing this, I'm viewing wrestling. What is up with Road Warrior Animal teaming with Heidenreich? Why are they billing them as the New Legion of Doom? I know Road Warrior Hawk is dead, and that kinda makes it hard to form a tag team, but I think it's just a little disrespectful to the Road Warriors mythos. But what the hell do I know? I'm Flint Marco!

Speaking of wrestling, I just bought the new Undertaker compilation DVD. It was pretty kinda awesome. I think WWE could have probably sprung a few extra bucks on the friggin' case. I'm not fond of the "Tom Clancy Three-Pack" casing, where three discs are stacked one on top of the other.

Okay, enough wrestling. Time for fun!

There's a hurricane in the Atlantic, apparently. I don't know. I heard it on the news. Anyway, EVERYONE is panicing! Hurricane? Sweet Baby Zeus, is is coming over here?! Fear not! For Flint, your k'nigit in rusty armor is here to save you...save you with KNOWLEDGE!


-Know the name of the Hurricane nearest you. This way, you can try asking it to go away, and if worse comes to worse, curse it's name as you die a horrible death.

-Rain is fun to splash in. When you see rain, immediately run outdoors and run in circles, soaking the delicious skywater. However, if the rain turns to hail, run back inside or you'll be bludgeoned to death by God's Wrath.

-Keep stuff around your house! Like what? Books, for floating. Food, for eating. Pets, for eating as well. Flares, for riot-starting. And finally, a Gun, for when you emerge from the wreckage and enter into the sea of destroyed humanity awaiting you.

-Keep a radio, so you can have something to jam out to while the world around you is systematically destroyed.

Good advice, huh? That's all Flint despenses!

See ya whenever.


Comments (4) | Permalink

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

   Incoming Fun! It's Post Time!
My dear fiends, er, friends, WELCOME to my world of majik and mayhem! I spell "magic" differently 'cause, like I said, it's a world of mayhem. It's also Tuesday, if anyone cares. I sure as hell don't.

So, your ol' pal Flint is at work today, right? And he noticed some pretty peculiar things. Like, for instance, there was a Mexican flag hanging from the ceiling, and hanging from it, a giant Hershey kiss. In what context can the National Flag of Mexico and tiny chocolate peices be brought together? Also, at the magazine rack, there was a magazine with a guy wearing a pope hat. He apparently died. Now, I'm not HUGE into religion, but I know that man wasn't the pope. All I could think of is vengence for that dude. All day, I repeated to myself:

"You'll pay for what you did to Juan Pablo the third. You'll PAY!"

Hey, guess what? Survey time! Fun is interaction, and that's what this post is!



Hey, kids! Welcome to my short survey! Answer these questions, and let Flint know what YOU, the viewer, would like to see from him!

1) Okay, let's say you need an organ transplant. I don't care which. Anyway, you don't have the money to pay for it, and you'll die slowly and agonizingly if you don't get it. How do you make the money?

A: Bake Sale!
B: Robbing Old People!
C: Killing Kittens and selling their pelts!
D: Building Makeshift Monuments to World Leaders out of Cans and stuff!

2) You're walking in the local orphanage, and feeling the somehow-humorous human misery of the place. Suddenly, a huge fire erupts! What the heck do you do?!

A: Run the hell out, pushing anyone in the way out of the way.
B: Grab anything and anyone you see, and throw it into the fire. Surley too much stuff on fire woud cancel out fire!
C: Call the Ghostbusters, even though this is clearly not a job for them.
D: Jump into the fire, then run out engulfed in flames, then begin hugging everyone around you.

3: Pirates! Blackbeard and his crew have burst into your humble abode. The pirates are drunk, most are pantsless, and all of them are in search of one thing: Gold dabloons! Answer now!

A: Pull out your deck of Yu-Gi-Oh cards, and summon the hell out of Exodia. EXODIA, OBLITERATE!
B: Surrender like a mad dog.
C: Call Superman via smoke-signals.
D: Grab the artillary and CHARGE!

4: Hey, guess what? While you were out, Batman called! He said the Justice League wanted to sign you up, but you need a code name. Which do you choose?

A: Human Lawndart, the living battering ram!
B: Hobbes, able to summon imaginary cats via stuffed animals!
C: Forkmaster, deadly assasin trained in the use of forks!
D: the Printer, able to copy any text you see onto paper!

5: The Final Question! ....What is the Capitol of Rhode Island?!

A: ....I don't know.
B: Fuck you, Flint Marco!
C: Die!
D: Providence!

L'et es Fini


Yep, what fun! Right? Sure I'm right!

Okay, I'm leaving. See ya!


Comments (6) | Permalink

Friday, August 19, 2005

   Posting is Fun and Mental!
hey everee1 its flynt yay! todayz fryday

...Sweet baby Jesus, thank God the spell-check works again! Anyway, my name's Flint, and welcome to my hoopla. Today's Friday. Yep, I checked.

Hey, don't I have that "Cat War" story to finish? Y'know what? I don't feel like writing it right now. Ask me again later. I can do that because, well, I'm the man, and I can. So, nyah!

My week's been pretty uneventful. I tell ya, nothing I hate more than boring stuff, and recently, I've been bombarded with it. I notice a number of people are doing the number list topics on their sites. So, being an infamous bandwagon jumper, I'll now do the same.

1) I'm seriously considering becoming a professional Wrestler nowadays. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a HUGE wrestling fan. I even use Eddie Guererro as an avatar on an ANIME site. I sorta kicked around the idea in high school, but now that I'm out of there, and currently not going to college, I'm really thinking about it.

2) Flint recently got paid. I've got a number of things I want to buy. Thing's such as:

-WWE recently released an Undertaker compilation DVD. One of those "Best of" disks, containing a whole bunch of matches. I know I'm gonna buy it sooner or later.

-I really want to play a new video game. Problem is, none of them interest me. Oh, the irony! Do you have any suggestions? I hear Makai Kingdom was supposed to be alright.

-Comics. That's all I'll say about that.

3) I cut my finger at work the other day. A glass shard got lodged into it. It didn't particularly hurt, but, boy, was there lots o' blood!

That was fun! Easy, too. Well, that's it for you. See ya!


Comments (5) | Permalink

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

   Gone with the Post
Mornin' to ye, stranger! I'm Flint Marco, an' I'm the law 'round these parts. Today's Wednsday, and I'm pretty happy about it.

Yep, how's your day going? Me, I'm off of work today, so I'm happy. No work equals one content Flint.

Okay, let's get on with some serious stuff. Lo, the majestic kitty cat. Through centuries, kitties have been loved by mankind, warming the hearts of phaorohs, mob bosses, and most recently, Flint Marco.

But, the life of the kitty is not all sunshine and lollipops. In fact, a kitty's life is fraught with pain and bloodshed. Many kitties fight every day for survival. This is one kitty's story.


During the late 1940's, America was sending her boys to other countries to fight in the second Great War. There, brave men fought for the freedoms won by their forefathers, against a great evil threatening to dominate the Western Hemisphere.

Here in America, however, another great war was brewing. A sinister group of Cats, led by one Baron Kel DeKitty, was gathering their forces for a great undertaking. The Cat Continuom, as they came to be known as, wanted one thing, and one thing only: the union of all cats into one entity, which they simply called, "The Great Cat". When "the Great Cat" was forged, the entity was prophesized to sweep through the lands that men dominated, and take them back for cats.

There were others, however, who opposed these evil cats. Kitties who wished to keep the order of the Earth in check. They sure as Hell didn't want any Cat-God messing up the peace that had been forged through centuries of communication between man and cat. These cats, calling themselves The Allies, took up arms against the Cat Continuom, and civil war between cats was waged.

They fought in the streets, in the sewers, in fields, on hot tin roofs. Countless cats fell to their former brothers. The streets were filled with the shredded bodies of brave cats. Humans were curious as to why all these cats dies so suddenly, but, as they always do, they found an excuse in current society, blaming it on motor vehicles.

Point Lorend, or "the Point" as it came to be known as, was the roughest port town in Maryland. The docks were filled with barges and smuggler ships carrying contraband to aid the cat Allies in the war effort. The cats unfortunate enough to call the Point "home" fought everyday for survival. Between a crippling Mob rule, a government system corrupt beyond all repair, and the Cat Continuom at the gates, it certainly wasn't easy.

"The Iron Saucer" was the seediest bar in the Point, and considering what kind of place the Point was, that's saying quite a lot. Only the toughest, most hardened cats dared to enter the doors. The Saucer was known as a haven for gangsters, criminals, and loose-moraled females.

The Saucer was full of cats that night. A group of thugs were yuking it up in the corner, chatting about stealing nip and cat pornography. A few Wisecats were sitting on stools in front of the counter, quiet as stone. A female cat was dancing on a table, obviously drunk. A group of cat sailors were cheering her on.

He entered like a hurricane. The bar grew silent. Even the thugs stopped yelling long enough to take notice. Jack Claws had a scowl on his face that could frighten Death itself. He walked to a corner table, pulled up a chair, slammed his boots on the table, and grinned.

"Barkeep," Jack growled, "Bring me the usual."

The barkeep stared at Jack, and quaked like he was looking at a ghost. "C-C-Comin' right up, Jack, sir." he said.

Jack looked about the bar. All eyes were on him. Jack could taste the fear the bar exsumed from his presence. He sneered. "Is there something on my face?!" he yelled.

Nobody answered.

"Then take yer eyes offa me!" he said.

The patrons quickly looked away from Jack, and resumed their activities.

Jack Claws had a reputation in the Point. He was a proffesional criminal by trade, taking any job that paid high. Jack did it all: Theft, extorsion, hijacking, random terrorism, even murder. Outside of his work, Jack was known as a violent drunk, a horrible womanizer, and an all-around dirtbag. The bar patrons' fear of him was well justified.

The waitress hesitated before taking Jack's drink to him. Jack eyed her the whole way. His horrible green eyes peirced her soul like hellfire. Her hand shook as she handed him his drink.

"Here you are, sir..." the waitress said.

Jack's eyes gleamed. He grinned, bearing his frighteningly sharp fangs. "What's your name, cutie?" Jack said.

"...Jessie." the waitress said.

"Well, then... Jessie... here's a tip." Jack said.

Jack handed her a piece of dried fish. The waitress smiled faintly, and turned to walk away. Jack quickly spanked her, causing her to jump up. She almost ran back to counter, were the barkeep was ready to console her. Jack let out a hearty laugh. He looked to the moon, and drank from his bottle, enjoying the night as he usually did.

Miles from the gates of the Point, an army of tank wagons was mobilized. A legion of faceless cats in tin armor stood at attention. A cat with a curly moustache looked over them. He then marched toward a cat in a mobile throne. The cat in the thrown was covered in darkness, almost invisible in the night.

"Emperor DeKitty," the moustache cat said, "The troops are ready. We can take the Point by sundown tommorow."

DeKitty slouched in his thrown, making himself even less visible. He chuckled, and grinned.

"Perfect." Emperor DeKitty said. "Tell the troops to rest. The invasion begins tomorrow morning as sunrise."


....Sure, Flint does dumb posts, but sometimes, he just feels like writing!

See ya later, I guess.


Comments (5) | Permalink

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

   Hey, kids! It's Post-o-Fun!
Good eve to ye, cherish'd friends! I'm Flint, and I run this place. Why? Because I can, and that's what I do. Today is Tuesday, my un-favorite day of the week. Tuesdays are so boring.

Yep, looks like another slow week coming along. Slow like molasses frozen thirty feet in an iceberg. NOTHING happens this week! What reason do I have to exist, when there's nothing to eist for? How will I stave off suicide?!

I'll tell you how: magic! Wingardian leviosar!

Okay, enough. Let me tell you how ol' Flint wastes time and money together effectively. So, yesterday, I see one of my tires goes flat. "Damn" I say to myself. My first mistake was taking the damn car to the local Wal-Mart to get fixed. I go up to the automotive counter, and the guy tells me, "The car'll be in there for an hour. Might as well take a look around. I say to myself, "Screw it. I got an hour to kill. Might as well look around."

My second mistake was to wander into the toy section. Now, toy collecting is pretty low on the dork radar, right? Well, your pal Flint's guilty of that sin. So, when I wander into the action figure isle, what do I see but NEW Marvel Legends figures! Hawkeye! Deadpool! Juggernaut! Dark Pheonix! Freakin' Ghost Rider! I had to have them, even if I had to gun down God himself to get them! Luckily, no diety was killed, for I have assloads of cash. I threw them in a basket with some other groceries, paid for them, then headed back to the automotive department. It had been an hour since I'd been there. Surely the car would have it's tire changed by now, right?

My third mistake was not buying clorox to drink, thereby ending my suffering. It had been an hour, and they hadn't even gotten started on my car! I took a seat on a bench, and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited until the end of time. Three hours passed. three hours of sitting on a bench, humming the theme song to "G.I. Joe", and wondering who would win in a fight between Wolverine and Inuyasha. For the record, Wolverine would kick the crap outta that stupid dog. Finally, me tire was changed. I paid for the stupid new tire, thre my groceries into the car, jumped in, and made a hasty retreat, leaving all my cash and my pride behind.

The moral? Cars are stupid, groceries are a conspiracy, and DON'T COLLECT TOYS!

Okay, see ya later!

-Flint Marco

Comments (3) | Permalink

Sunday, August 14, 2005

   My Dinner with Someguy
'Ello, dearies! It's me, Flint Marco, here to entertain the hell out of you, to the delight of the free world! It's currently Sunday right now. Waitaminute, did Flint jut do three consecutive posts in one single week? Could it be *GASP!* the awesome return of Flint to full-time post duty?! Don't hold your breath, bucko.

Hold on, strike that. Breath-Holding Contest! Me, you, RIGHT NOW! Ready?.... GO!





*Cough,cough* You miserable bastard! You weren't even holding your breath, were you! I Should kill you!

But, I won't kill you just yet, because we've got an entire postsworth of joy ahead of us, so get to reading, and prolong your life a little bit longer. Just a little.

Ah, my personal hero, SG. The man known to the MyO-niverse as Someguy truly is, in my eyes, the MyO MVP. He's the Iron man. The Classy Man-About-Town, if you will. In fact, I'd say SG is currently the MyO heavyweight Champion of the world. What is Flint's title, then? Simply the Intercontinental champion.

Yes, SG is truly my personal MyO hero, which is why I met him for a light "brunch" recently. We chatted about all sorts of things! What, you don't believe Flint? You're right in doing so. I'm a raving lunatic and a compulsive liar. But, shut up right now, 'cause here's a segment I like to call...


(NOTE: The events in this story are completly fabricated. SG still owes me for using my name and image in a
Nougat and Cream story, so it's time to collect! Prepare to regret!)

(We find our hero, SG, standing in front of the counter of a local Burger King. Flint bursts through the doors.)

FLINT: SG! Dat's my boy right dere! C'mere, son, give me hugs!

SG: Gah! Flint! What are you doing here?!

FLINT: You kiddin'? I've been following you all morning! You never responded to my brunch offers!

SG: ...That's kinda because I didn't want to have brunch. You're embarassing to be seen with, man.

FLINT: ...Okay. (turns attention to cashier) Hey, barkeep! Ring up a Whopper wit' cheese and some chicken tenders!

CASHIER: That'll be $3.90, sir.

FLINT: (Patting SG on the shoulder) This guys paying, right, buddy?

SG: Me?! I told you, we aren't having brunch!

FLINT: C'mon, man! I haven't eaten solid food in four weeks! FOUR!

SG: God, FINE!

(SG pays the cashier, and sits in a corner table, flanked by Flint)

FLINT: So, man, how's everything?

SG: ....

FLINT: ...'cause I got some troubles of my own.

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: Yeah, see, this pig pulls me over the other day-

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: An' he tells me my stickers out of date, so I slam on my gas petal-

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: And BOO-YAH! There are pigs all over me, like that spy-hunter game!

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: ...you aren't even listening to me, are you? I could say anything right now, and all you'd say is-

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: ...

SG: Uh-huh.

FLINT: SEE?! Right there! I didn't say anything, and you said it!

SG: ...Look, Flint. Did it occur to you that... y'know, the way I wasn't listening to you, and the way I'm trying to act like I don't know you, that mabey... I kinda want to be alone?

FLINT: Social interaction is key in life, SG. And, as a friend, I refuse to deprive my pal of a helping of social pudding!

SG: "Social pudding"?

CASHIER: Order up!

(The cashier places a tray of food on the counter.)

FLINT: ...Well, aren't you gonna go get it, man?

SG: Me?! I paid for it! The least you could do is get up and grab the stupid tray!

FLINT: Fine, fine! God damn, don't bite me head off!

(Flint grabs the tray, and takes it back to SG's table.)

FLINT: Yeah, so, I need a ride to the City Hall after this.

SG: ...Why, Flint? Why do you need a ride to City Hall?

FLINT: I wanted to buy up the land that the orphanage is on, then burn it to the ground.

SG: ...Hey, Flint. How hot do you think this cheese is?

FLINT: I dunno. Pretty freakin hot. Why-

(SG Slams his burger, complete with scalding cheese, into Flint's face.)


SG: So long, ya cheese-face bastard!

(SG runs for the door, as Flint covers his burned face.)

FLINT: You'll burn for this, SG... YOU'LL BURN!

-l'et es fini-

Yep, so that's how all brunches usually end for Flint. I hope SG's a good sport about this, or I'm totally a dead man.

Well, see ya when I see ya!


Comments (3) | Permalink

Friday, August 12, 2005

   Posting Up a Storm
Hola, mi amigos! This is your old friend, Flint Marco! Today is Friday, and I gotta say, I'm quite taken by Fridays. There ain't no wrestling on, but there's other stuff, of which escapes me at the moment.

Yep, your friend Flint's got work in a few hours. Don't you hate workin'? So do I. Stupid capitalist government, and their archaic notions of "paper currency". What happened to the days where you could drag a dead duck into a store, and barter for soap with it? Those were the good ol' days...

So, anyway, I'm terrible with money. I got paid yesterday. See, I get paid by my crappy job every Thursday. I only work part-time, so it was, like, two-hundred something bucks I got. I hit the local "Best Buy" first, where I buy an awesome Shawn Michaels DVD. Man, that was awesome. Then, I go to my crappy local comics shop, where I spend an assload on stupid things I'll probably regret buying later. Now, I'm left with $37. Between gas and my car acting up again, I'm not sure how long the cash will last me. All, I know is, in half a day, I manage to blow my entire paycheck on dumb stuff. Don't be like Flint, kids! SAVE SOME MONEY!

Man, is it me, or do my posts seem to be getting a little selfish? They sure do revolve around me most of the time...

I'm bored...



Hello, Molly, and viewing audience. This is the news. My name is Flint, and I'll be your anchor this evening. Today, we'll be discussing politics with the governer of Texas, P.T. Barnum.

FLINT: Hello, Mr. Barnum. Thanks for coming.

BARNUM: No problem, kiddo. (looks off camera) No, that ring needs to be in the center! THE CENTER! Man, I gotta stop hiring trained bears.

FLINT: So, how's the economy in Texas?

BARNUM: If people would buy more circus peanuts, it'd be a lot better.

FLINT: Circus peanu-


(a brick flies into the back of Flint's skull, as Barnum ducks under his chair)


BARNUM: You okay? Those clowns're pretty mean if you don't acknowledge their presence.

FLINT: Sonova-

CLOWN: 'Ey, Flint! Us clowns gots plenty more where DAT comes from! (Clowns cheer)

FLINT: Why did you throw a brick at my skull?!

CLOWN: 'Cause it's funny! Watch DIS! (Clowns begin juggling and running around. Barnum soon joins them.)

FLINT: ...this interview is over.

...okay, so what did we learn? I don't know, that's why I'm asking you. Why must I always have the answers?

I'm done. Oh, hey, I was out for quite a while. Did I miss anything? Got something to say to ol' Flint? That's what the comment box is for.

Alright. See you later, alligator!


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