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Death at 2547 3 Mile Rd STE C.

Today were the much awaited primary stages of vanberge’s single bachelor party.

Unfortunately, only nine of us showed up for paintball so we could not have even teams. I suppose that it worked out fine though as the pussy in the shape of a man, Tom, basically gave up after only a few rounds .

Actually, I was kind of surprised that most of the guys kept going back to the staging or spectators area between matches. I suppose that I am just used to playing with a group that goes game after game for hours. However, since we played in larger outdoor boards, the games tended to last quite a bit longer as well.

Regardless of anyone’s perspective it was a pretty good time. Although, I’m pretty sure Payner was not too pleased when I accidentally oblittereated his manhood from a yard away . Next time though, I think that we should go to an outdoor course, or one of the “urban” ones. I am pretty sure the place in Holland has an outdoor board, and I know that they have a pretty badass setup in a house, for that good old fashioned “room clearing” fun.

I am hoping that vanbergs can get his video footage of the event edited together into some kind of unholy homage to the event. I am fairly certain that there is some serious footage of sheer oblitteration.

Centuries after our forefathers raped the natives of their land, they have returned to rape our wallets.

Against my better judgment I decided to follow the party to the Casino. Unfortunately, my timing for the event was a little off. Since the van-van was only on 131 when I was in Mt. Pleasant, I decided to grab something to eat since I hadn’t had anything since breakfast. So, I snagged a couple pizzas that I shared with my dad and brother. I sat down to start watching the Notre Dame v. MSU game when vanlandw called to let me know that they were on the way to the Casino. However, I did not have my phone on me at the time, but I got the message not too long after he called. So, I pried myself away from the game to head to the Casino. I probably should have just stayed until halftime.

When I got the casino, I could not get a hold of anyone, because the ringers were pathetically inferior to the wall of sound that was boxed up inside the cesspool of debatchery. Eventually I caught up with them at the line for the buffet. I poorly timed my arrival as they were getting ready to eat. Unfortunately, I had just stuffed myself before going so the very thought of the buffet made my stomach turn. So, I found myself waiting them eat for a prolonged period of time while they betrated people, discussed food and bowel movements.

Eventually, a hour and half later they finished their meal and returned to the casino floor. After squirrelling around the slots for a while we finally set down at the 50-cent slots for a little while. vanbergs looked on, because he had already blown his load. The same fate would have waited for vanberge had a couple of the others contributed to the vanberge “flash in the pan” gambling style. I think the experience prove indicative of the “dutch legacy” or thrift. As all those who bore the burden of “van-names” completely obliterated all the money they put down.

I think that it if you figure in what flo and Tom won, everything broke out approximately even. But, that is just a rough guess.

Regardless of anything that happened today, I am very grateful to have a relatives house to stay at this evening so I did not have to go back to the hotel for some “just friends” spooning. .

Nope.

For those of you like, vanlandw that love to nag me to update my website (even though you fail to lead by example ), know that I have not been frequently updating my site over the past week or so. This is primary due to the work that I have been doing on Dark Room. It hardly takes up all my free time, but it does take up all my blogging time.

Thus, now that I finished my conversion to C#, I should have time again to write a post about something or the other. But, do not get your hopes up.

It all started when our cliche, protagonistic figure, vanlandw, woke up in a disease-infested concrete jungle. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling really displeased, vanlandw stroked a wolverine, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Happy as a frickin’ monkey, he realized that his beloved man purse was missing! Immediately he called his vicariously jealous friend, vanberge. vanlandw had known vanberge for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were enticing ones. vanberge was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little… dimwitted. vanlandw called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

vanberge walked up to a very calm vanlandw. vanberge calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras yawn before mating, yet South American hissing sloths usually surreptitiously panic *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting vanlandw. Why was vanberge trying to distract vanlandw? Because he had snuck out from vanlandw’s with the man purse only three days prior. It was a electric little man purse… how could he resist?

It didn’t take long before vanlandw got back to the subject at hand: his man purse. vanberge yawned. Relunctantly, vanberge invited him over, assuring him they’d find the man purse. vanlandw jumped on his scooter and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, vanberge realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the man purse and he had to do it deftly. He figured that if vanlandw took the deliciously practical 4-door, he would get there at least four minutes before vanlandw. But if he took the bus? Then vanberge would be alarmingly screwed.

Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, vanberge was interrupted by five funny-smelling Man Bear Pigs that were lured by his man purse. vanberge cringed; ‘Not again’, he thought. Feeling exasperated, he aggressively reached for his live hand grenade and carefully stroked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent–the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the secret cellar, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That’s when he heard the scooter rolling up. It was vanlandw.

As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at the mini-mart to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a hasty leap, vanlandw was out of the scooter and went sassily jaunting toward vanberge’s front door. Meanwhile inside, vanberge was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the man purse into a box of dull pencils and then slid the box behind his hippopotamus. vanberge was exasperated but at least the man purse was concealed. The doorbell rang.

‘Come in,’ vanberge purred. With a mighty push, vanlandw opened the door. ‘Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some selfish genocidal maniac in a best-in-its-so-called-’class’ sedan,’ he lied. ‘It’s fine,’ vanberge assured him. vanlandw took a seat conveniently far from where vanberge had hidden the man purse. vanberge panicked trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. ‘Uhh, can I get you anything?’ he blurted. But vanlandw was distracted. Absolutely thrilled, vanberge noticed a pestering look on vanlandw’s face. vanlandw slowly opened his mouth to speak.

‘…What’s that smell?’

vanberge felt a stabbing pain in his prostate when vanlandw asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the man purse right by his oscillating fan. ‘Wh-what? I don’t smell anything..!’ A lie. A abrasive look started to form on vanlandw’s face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. ‘Th-th-those are just my grandma’s ripened avocados from when she used to have pet long-haired sea monkeys. She, uh…dropped ‘em by here earlier’. vanlandw nodded with fake acknowledgement…then, before vanberge could react, vanlandw aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it. The man purse was plainly in view.

vanlandw stared at vanberge for what what must’ve been three nanoseconds. Just as zero people expected vanberge groped surreptitiously in vanlandw’s direction, clearly desperate. vanlandw grabbed the man purse and bolted for the door. It was locked. vanberge let out an exotic chuckle. ‘If only you hadn’t been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, vanlandw,’ he rebuked. vanberge always had been a little oafish, so vanlandw knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before vanberge did something crazy, like… start chucking gerbils at him or something. Just as nobody expected he gripped his man purse tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

vanberge looked on, blankly. ‘What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.’ Silence from vanlandw. ‘And to think, I varnished that window frame four days ago…it never ends!’ Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for vanlandw. ‘Oh. You ..okay?’ Still silence. vanberge walked over to the window and looked down. vanlandw was gone.

Just yonder, vanlandw was struggling to make his way through the fanstic pumpkin patch behind vanberge’s place. vanlandw had severely hurt his scalp during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Man Bear Pigs suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the man purse. One by one they latched on to vanlandw. Already weakened from his injury, vanlandw yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Man Bear Pigs running off with his man purse.

About seven hours later, vanlandw awoke, his ear throbbing. It was dark and vanlandw did not know where he was. Deep in the mysterious haunted thicket, vanlandw was really lost. A few unfulfilled hours later, he remembered that his man purse was taken by the Man Bear Pigs. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That’s when, to his horror, a enormous Man Bear Pig emerged from the secret cellar. It was the alpha Man Bear Pig. vanlandw opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the Man Bear Pig sunk its teeth into vanlandw’s shin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from vanlandw’s lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than two miles away, vanberge was entombed by anguish over the loss of the man purse. ‘MY PRECIOUS!!’ he cried, as he reached for a sharpened dried avocado. With a hasty thrust, he buried it deeply into his love handle. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about vanlandw… wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the man purse that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn’s reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant Man Bear Pigs, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would’ve lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead.