The Hardass Goes to a New Year's Eve Party
The Hardass clumped up the steps and onto the porch of his buddy's house. A little piece of paper with glitter glue smeared on it told him to "come on in!"
He grasped the door handle with one of his giant hands, wrenched it off and ate it. He punched the door down and moved into the foyer like a steam locomotive with sex appeal.
"Why hello there, baby! I'm glad you could come! Have some punch!" said Chastity, strewing herself into his concrete arms. She immediately went limp and drooped like seduced Silly Putty. "Glee!" she squealed, and dripped to the floor.
"Damn," The Hardass grunted, and stepped over her.
"Hey there, big guy!" said Rob, the station's desk clerk.
"Where's the Fluff, Rob?"
"Over by the buffet. But seriously man, how are you? I haven't--"
Rob's pleasantries were cut off with sudden ferocity as The Hardass threw him out a window.
"He stood between me and the Fluff," he growled by way of explanation to the stunned guests. Sighting a bowl of the marshmallow delicacy on a table next to a platter of graham crackers, he rumbled toward it like an iron rhinoceros.
"This stuff is damn awesome," he grunted, and tucked the entire bowl into the armpit of his denim jacket. He went into a fighter's crouch, eyes darting around the room. "I'm done here," he rumbled to himself.
Lowering his head, he exited through the nearest wall and thundered off into the new year trailing insulation and Sheetrock.
Well, thank you The Hardass! May we see more of you in '08.
Next up is Paul the CrimeFighter. He wasn't available, but he did send a box of glazed doughnuts and a nice letter:
I wanted to tell you all at the Blog how grateful I am for your faithful reporting of my heroic deeds. Thanks to the team of You and I, we were able to take Crime, wad it up into a little ball, throw it into the toilet and then do unspeakable things to it before we flushed it. Crime, in short, is on the run. It has been ware. Very ware. These doughnuts, in all their round, shiny, sugar-encrusted glory are symbolic of the round, shiny, sugar-encrusted, glorious way in which The Stupid Blogger and I have kicked Crime in the privates.
Bob bless you all.
--Paul the CrimeFighter.
P.S.: Pthabbth says "moop!"
Why, thank you, Mister CrimeFighter! The Blog appreciates your candor and baked goods.
We've also received word from Ernald the Whiny from the island of Tarnation. He's finally met the Lord of the Nitwits and found him to be an engaging fellow with a keen interest in different types of non-dairy creamer. This is what we'd expect, honestly. More detailed reports to follow. I promise.
The Girlfriend, taking a break from her full-time job of being cute and sassy, has also a few words to tell you, time-wasters. "I didn't know I was taking a break from being cute and sassy! What're you trying to say?"
In response, I wish to remind her of how adorable I find her cute sassery, and that I have cookies I'm willing to share. I pet her on the head until she calms down. We share a cookie, and all is right.
Sounds like a good way to kick off a year.
I'd also like to thank all of you who have taken the time to indulge in stupidity by leaving us comments. Kevin? That means you, you butt farmer.
And now I leave you with a word of encouragement and great hope from The Stupid Blogger: Swine.