But Mirvyn Blanchyrd was one
of the kookiest goofballs on planet Earth.
He disseminated frivolous cheer with his zany wacknanigans.
The man was a true nut.
After nearly overdosing on fun,
his doctor became concerned he might be medically wacky
and soon Mirv was diagnosed with stage IV goof-em-ups.
The clinician explained hisvital organs were a silly Billy.
Tests revealed Mirvyn's turds were riding up
and down inside his butt in what oncologists described
as a wack-a-doodie poorade,
and then his dookie came flying out his mouth across town,
smacking into an old lady's face.
Mirv and his doctor, shared a guffaw over that one.
When they discovered his funny bone
was riddled with a cancerous humor,
it caused Mirv to cross his eyeswith such whimsy
he was forced to confront every hijink
jinking the depths of his psyche.
The most advanced madcap treatments flopped.
He was informed he had only 2 months left to goof.
His final hope was a siliectomy
to surgically remove all his malignant kook.
The procedure was a success,
so his wife celebrated with jolly glee.
Every object in the physical realm
has been infinitely born in ever moment.
God is inside this flower.
Fred Lombadi tried to remain calm,
but he knew this chance might never come again,
the chance to make his father proud, the score of a lifetime.
Did you get it?
He's in here.
Let me see that.
Hmm.
I -- I can't see him.That's the idea.
The monk guy, he says the trickto nabbing him is patience.
I got a better trick.
You come out of there or I stab you with a knife.
Get!
Easy, now. Easy!
You proud of me now, Pop?
Did you remember to pick up a pack of matches for me, too?
Oh.
Aw, Freddy Forgetti!
I -- I remember stuff.
I remember the monkeysaid about
how God is inside us all.
What, even up in me?
Get out of me, you mook!
Out, out!
If this is God, what's that?
Somebody's a phony!
We better have them duke it out.
Yeah!
Whoo!
When underground God fighting
took off, oceans burned,
skies sharted,
heaven peed its pants...
...and over $100 in wagers changed hands.
Every denomination got in on the action,
and Fred's one true God eviscerated
all the other one true Gods,
plus they cleaned up selling His Holy Seed to breeders.
This last year has beenvery good to us, right now.
I never told you this before,
but I am proud to saythat you are...
Freddy Forgetti!
I can't believe you forgotthe matches that time,
you ding-dong!
Freddy Forgetti!
He couldn't stand to see the little fellow suffer anymore.
You're free.
Go on, get out of here.
Go. Beat it, you loser.
Just go on back home.
As a token of goditude, the Lord made Fred's
dumdum go bye-bye.
He spent his brainglow developing new technology
to ensure no one ever had to wonder what someone is feeling.
When Roman Mungol submitted to a love detector,
he was surprised to see his results come back positive.
He knew he harbored affection
for the woman who delivered his mail,
but it was a shock to have it electronically confirmed
as eternal love.
He told her he was willing to pay millions
if she'd reciprocate his feelings,
not have sex or kiss, but actualize digitally
adjudicated eternal passion.
Desperately in debt and hobbled by health problems,
Sheila Sherma decided to give it a sincere shot.
For months, they struggled valiantly
to pry open the petals of her heart.
Come on, Sheila!
You can do this.
You can love this guy.
She grabbed her soul by the scruff of the ass,
but she couldn't force it to mate with his.
One day after a rigorous session,
they were on their lunch break when it happened.
It was that moment he knew he could never respect or love
a whore whose emotions could be bought.
He kept his revelation inside,
couldn't bear to break her heart.
They made it work together, and luckily she never found out
what he really thought of her.
He worried.
He could develop a fatal bowel disorder
turning her to a lonely bowel widow,
but he didn't know what else to do.
The moment he was discovered, the butterflies
in his stomach turned back into caterpillars.
When the detector's digital kin charged in to defend it,
the couple weren't intimidated.
In fact, they sicced theirs upon the invader
and savored the battle that ensued.
They didn't understand why the machine they treated
so brutally would fight to keep them flush
which was just what excited them.
They got off on nursing the warrior back to help
so it could ravageon their behalf again and again.
They sold its seed to breeders,
but when Fred found his brainchild mired
in the same cycle of abuse,
he spiraled, swallowed in wallow.
When woe is your only companion,
you hanker to clutch its titillations.
The instant he snorted his first line of pure gloom,
his life was darked.
He carpe'd his demons
and suckled the black marrow of misery's milk
from the bone of grief's teat,
horfing in the pleasures of misery.
It was the best three minutes of his life.
Luckily, his brother intervened to stop him.
Fred quit leaning on quick fixes
and turned to a life of substance.
He did lines of prose all night.
Then he smoked every self-help book
he could get his hands on,
the sublime power of the written word
coursing through his system.
Soon he moved on to the hard stuff.
He filled his lungs with brilliance and became
chemically dependent on profundity.
Nothing was dense enough.
Mornings, he would Wake & Blake,roll up a Freud
and cook some Baldwin brownies.
Soon he started mainlining the Beats.
At his rock bottom, he sucked the Oxford English Dictionary
until he nearly OD'd on the subtext.
After he licked out the last few gigs of sci-fi
from inside a Kindle,
he had imbibed everything ever written.
That's when he began breaking into houses
and smoking dreams right out of people's heads as they slept.
What's happening? Where am I?
I'm supposed to be in my mind.
Let me out of here!
I'm out of my mind!
Jump.
I'll catch you, dream girl.
Ah. Oh.
You've released me, you fool!
You can't scare me off that easy.
Why do I always get myself
into these suffocating relationships?
Am I punishing myself for some perceived guilt?
Mm, I'm tearing her up inside.
Sometimes I feel like he's just in love with the idea of me.
But at that moment, his suffering detector
detected what needed to be done to end its own nightmare.
When Fred arrived, he finally understood
what his father had been trying to tell him his whole life.
Freddy -- Freddy --
Freddy Forgetti.
I'm ashamed of mine,too, Dad.
I'm ashamed of mine, too.
He was teaching his son
that it's always better to grow your own.
PFR.