Thursday, March 10, 2005

Where in the world is John C?

(This is an inside joke inspired by my friend Brian.)

John's day began when he deboarded in London for a three hour layover on his trip to Greece. John knows that England is the home of kidney pie, non-fluoridated sugar-toothpaste, legal royal inbreeding, and unabashed politeness...time is of the essence. It's time for John C's own "British Invasion". John is a very bright young man and quickly rationalized that he did not have time to go to Manchester, create a shoegazer band by the name of Hair in the Face Feedback and the Dark Melancholy Abyss, record two albums that are well-received in the UK and Japan but flop in the U.S., tour Europe and every city in America except for Detroit, be on the cover of NME and Mojo 4 times each, headline the Isle of Wight Festival, break-up, go solo as DJ Purple Nurple, turn to huffing paint and scoring meth from a one-legged tranny named Georgia, reunite with HITFFATDMA for one record and one tour for the cash, and then go on to produce Ashlee Simpson and Aaron Carter albums.

No...just not enough time. He realized that he didn't have time to go Stonehenge (that place they talk about in This is Spinal Tap). Thinking quickly John decided that he would challenge the Queen to an arm-wrestling match Over the Top style. But to take on such a task John knew that he would need sustenance. John rented a car to take into the city, but immediately crashed it as he was not used to the "other side of the road" thing. John hitched a ride in the back of a lorry instead. John found a purveyor of fine foods and bought a can of Spotted Dick, a Pot Noodle, a can of mushy peas, a steak and kidney pie, a jar of treacle, a dozen smoked eels, some fried haddock, and mixed-case of ales. Mr. C then took his loot to have a picnic style lunch at the side of the Thames. John quickly swallowed the Spotted Dick and drank the entire case of ale realizing that all the other stuff was shite. A pissed (drunk) John climbed to the top of Big Ben and peed off it while offering all the "birds" a "shag". Somehow he fell from the top of Big Ben without being hurt (as often happens with the exceptionally drunk). He forgot about his arm-wrestling match with the queen, but did remember to start a fight with a Palace guard. It's the first time in British history that one of those guards flinched, but it's not every day that someone says "You mum is a lousy shag, but your father gives bloody good head...and he smells of elderberries.". John got the crap kicked out of him by the guard and some local punks wearing some Doc Martin "kicker" boots. "Bollocks", he said, "you're all a bunch of bloody wankers! Toss off!". They proceeded to kick his arse "football crowd style" (soccer) until he was out cold.

John woke up in a puddle of his own vomit with malt vinegar, a bag of onion-flavored crisps, and what he hoped was sticky pudding poured on him. John looked at his watch and saw that he only 45 minutes to catch his flight to Greece. He ran as fast as he could while singing the "Lumberjack Song" and the "Penis Song" for inspiration (usually the Chariots of Fire theme by Vangelis is used in such situations). Our special drunken boy ran and ran and made it to Heathrow with about 15 minutes to spare. Unfortunately, John was still so piss-drunk that he somehow wandered onto the tarmack and loaded himself onto a luggage conveyor. John made it onto the plane...just the wrong one.

John C. has boarded the luggage hold area of a flight to...


Tune in tomorrow to find out "Where in the world is John C?"



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