Ladies and Gentlemen,
We have been away, but have returned, and have fought viciously to write the next entry to this illustrious blog. After weeks of rehabilitation, reconstructive surgery and returned checks,
we have decided to make the next entry, together. Using the power and force of the Internet, we create the following simple story, taking turns in our venture. Enjoy, but blame Cornelius if it goes awry.
The Hit, by H&C
The squishy feeling underneath Hank's muddy, scab-encrusted feet was quite troublesome to him, as he began to traverse the Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria. Ahead in the crowd he spotted his prey, an ancient woman, slowly limping forward on her walker, pockmarked and ashen, easily the most beautiful woman in the room. He knew his mission was to eliminate her in the most awe-inspiring way possible, but her jaw-dropping beauty combined with her wretched stench gave his heart pause. Moving into an obviously perfect position, Hank raised his Sumatran-made Khanberg Special .38 toothpick ejector and took aim. Through the laser-scope, he noticed her eye looked like a perfect red-pitted green olive, so beautiful in its solitude. Shaking the urge to head for the bar for his signature Glamour Girl Martini, he pulls the trigger, just as his bladder lets loose.
This was not the first time that his excretory system comprised his actions in a catastrophic manner. Once, in the jungles of Islamabad, he had been hunting the famed ferret felcher, Ferdinand Finkleton. For two months, he quietly rolled through the swamps in a World War II Sherman tank, and when he entered the remote village known as "Malaka Taint Chi", he simply could not believe how sexually aroused he was. Pushing away the need to deflower every female simian within 78 clicks, he wound up disabling his own tank, while at the same time making it useless as a playground for the local younglings. Ensuring that the government-issued 75mm M61 tank rounds were safely hidden in a pile of "used" kleenex within the tank, Hank proceeded on foot to complete his mission. Luckily, Finkleton was not far, as he was searching for the animal he thought he heard screaming only moments before. As Hank approached Finkleton from the East, he heard footsteps and some mumbling behind him, so he blindly spun around to confront who, or what, was trailing him. As he turned, his foot caught on a rubber tree root, his hands dropped the fishing line / gauze / toaster oven contraption of death he planned to use on Finkleton and he stumbled forward in horror, as the benefit of hindsight was mocking his decision to leave his pants in the tank as well. Kneeling on the ground in his path was an elderly village woman, peering up at his tumbling, disjointed body as if he were the ancient spirit that, legend holds, would return to their modest village and bestow upon all the denizens... indoor plumbing. To both of their astonishment, Hank drunkenly stumbled forward, startled at the woman's presence, her wretched stench, and his still bulbous phallus, and fell on top of her, his hips to her head... punishing her glinting, hopeful eye. Panic quickly ensued as he withdrew his pork sword from her ocular cavity while she screeched in agony, thus drawing the attention of Finkleton - who, in the afternoon light, bore a striking resemblance to the woman... minus the gaping hole in her skull. Hank's hysteria at his situation compounded again when he realized that not only might Finkleton escape, not only did he not introduce himself to this cyclops at his feet, but that Finkleton was also charging him with a jewel-encrusted machete! Fear had engulfed him now, paralyzed in the path of a charging madman hell-bent on revenge for violating the old woman's orbital bone, as well as the "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" incident that ended their friendship years before while in college. He now understood, in one cacaphonous moment, that he was a pawn of PETA, (whom he offended years earlier when he was caught flushing his not-quite-dead tetra down the toilet), not the world's leading super-secret spy and government agent that he was led to believe he was only two weeks ago. Fleeing the scene, he realized that he had closed one door (the elimination of Ferdinand was no longer necessary) but had opened another (the inevitable next meeting with the elderly woman, because for some reason he knew that she would relentlessly pursue vindication against him, probably because the woman was writhing on the jungle floor yelling, "I WILL PURSUE VINDICATION AGAINST YOU!!!!").
Snapping back into reality at the Waldorf while wading in his own urine, Hank gazed into the eye of the crypt-keeper clone once more and thought to himself, "My Gawd, she looks familiar....."
