Munchies, Monsters, And Matches

[chaosvizier]

Munchies
As often happens in this office, food magically appears on the waiting room table for our consumption. Usually this food takes the form of a box of fancy chocolates that someone brought back from a trip, or occasionally something larger, like a cake (for instance, a big coffee cheesecake, which showed up about three weeks ago and lasted all of an hour). Standard office procedure apparently is that everyone has a sample of the proferred gift food, and then someone declares, "Hans, eat that so we don't get fat," at which point I'm in like Flynn.

Sometimes these treats don't go over so well. Case in point: whatever I just ate. It looked like a cookie. It was round and flat-ish. The package was all in Korean, so I had no idea what exactly it was. But I'm an adventurous soul; nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that, so I opened it. A quick blast of flavorful aroma assaulted my nostrils: creamy, thick, almost like the smell of a Yodel. Curious. So I look at the cookie-like thing in my hands. It's large, about 4" across, soft and spongy and covered in chocolate. Can't be all bad, I figure, so I take a bite. Two thin layers of cake sandwich a creamy middle within the chocolate outer shell.

Then the taste hits me. I believe I now know where Iraq hid all its chemical weapons. They wrapped them up disguised as cookies and sold them to their Korean buddies. Insidious. Ingenius. And, unfortunately for me, disgusting.

It takes a full 20 oz bottle of Mountain Dew to erase the sensation from my taste buds. The memory, however, will live on in infamy. Gnnnnarrrrggghhh...





Monsters
Wednesday, October 22nd. 0600. MI-5 Agent chaosvizier departs his residence, cloaked in shadow, ready to continue his ongoing war against evil and other baddies. Danger follows at every turn, but he is not afraid. The enemy cannot stop him.

His vehicle awaits, disguised as a harmless Volvo stationwagon. No one knows its true potential. He waits a moment for the fingerprint and retinal scans to hum in acknowledgement of his identity, and then slips inside. The car roars to life with the traditional loud farting sound that a broken muffler is wont to make. The soothing sounds of Simon and Garfunkel fill the cockpit. As he is ready to depart, the ever-aware chaosvizier catches the slightest hint of motion in his peripheral vision. Angling his head slightly, he stares in horror as a pale brown spider swiftly descends from its webline and vanishes under the passenger seat.

The assassins have found him. Poisonous arachnids planted in his car; a clear and unmistakable message: WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.

Death lurks around the corner; this may be his last transmission... for now.

	

	

	

				
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How compatible with me are YOU?

The irony that my two new housemates are among my least compatible friends is not lost on me. Heh. But culturecouture is still my bestest friend.

On the other hand...

	

	

	

				
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How sexually compatible with me are you?
Take the NEW sexual compatibility quiz at LJMatch!

All I can say is, it's good to see that fizrep is all the way at the bottom of this list. His unwholesome cravings for pudding, sheep, and the undead make him 100% incompatible with my kind.

EDIT: Updated 20 Feb 2004.

Comments

[angledge.livejournal.com]

Then the taste hits me. I believe I now know where Iraq hid all its chemical weapons. They wrapped them up disguised as cookies and sold them to their Korean buddies. Insidious. Ingenius. And, unfortunately for me, disgusting.

This sounds like a job for our Bad Candy friends!!