The Ever-Loving Virgin Prince
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Angry Days
I don't feel much like writing today. Last night as I was sleeping, my home was broken into by ninja monkeys.
Again.
There I was, tucked in and cute as a button, sleeping soundly in my sleeping cap, Green Lantern T-shirt and happy-face boxers, under my Pee Wee's Playhouse comforter and Batman bed sheets, dreaming sweet dreams of sharing an apartment with Elvira and Betty Page, and having to dress as a woman to avoid being evicted. I was in the middle of a hilarity-filled scenario in which I was meeting a ravishingly beautiful female friend from the internet for the first time ever, but in my nervousness, had sent her a picture of Don Knotts instead. It was as I was trying to convince Don Knotts to impersonate me and go on the date with her when I heard a loud crash from my kitchen, and woke up immediately.
I jumped up from my bed , eyes still heavy from slumber , and threw on my robe , thinking all the while , "What would Tom Baker do?" I grabbed my cane and ran down the hall, hoping the effects of my waking virility would be unnoticeable by the time I reached the kitchen.
There they were.
Ninja monkeys. Screeching and laughing loudly as they went through my cupboards, and jumping all around my kitchen, leaving monkey-buttprints on my counters. Last time, they had taken all my Pez and broken into my stash of rootbeer. This time, it looked as though they were after Poprocks and Jolt Cola.
“What are you vile simian simpletons doing?!” I cried at the monkeys, “be gone from my residence for the last time you bastardly beasts! ”
I knew should have thought twice about moving into a place with a monkey-dojo up the street, but it was either that or move into the place next to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I knew I didn’t want to answer the door half as often as that location would no-doubt force me to.
The monkeys screamed and jumped around, scrambling all over the place and knocking the magnets off of my refrigerator, all the magnets except some of the alphabet magnets, which they had spelled out to write “Virgin penis banana monkey fart”. They were no doubt practicing, they had to be working on the world’s greatest novel once again. I kicked at the monkeys scrambling around my kitchen. One of them retaliated by mixing a can of Jolt cola and Poprocks and throwing the fizzing projectile at me.
"Ack! Gross!" I cried as Jolt Cola sprayed my face. I ran to the phone to call my ally, Mister Mystere, the prude from New England, surely he could help. The phone rang thrice before his answering machine picked up.
"Why hello. You've reached the lair of the mysterious Mister Mystere. I must presently be away righting wrongs. I shall be glad to return your phone call upon returning to my abode, but I must know where to call. Please don't leave me in suspense!"
"Mystere! Pick up the phone! ‘Tis I, The Virgin Prince! I need your help!" I hollered into the phone.
"Huhh... wha..?" came Mystere's groggy response as he answered the phone, "what? No, Victoria... I assure you Mystere is a much better last name than Beckham... yes Geri can come too... yes, I like the frilly number, wear that..."
"MYSTERE! WAKE UP!" I yelled into the phone.
"Fuzzamagimmillee, HUH? What? Who is it?"
"It's me, the Virgin Prince. I require assistance!"
"It's 3 in the morning. Go to sleep! The crime'll still be there in the morning." muttered Mister Mystere angrily.
"I'm not fighting crime! I'm at home! I'm being attacked by monkeys! By monkeys, I say!"
"Virgin, just give Bobo a Teen Beat magazine and lock him in his cage." Mystere said as he hung up the phone.
"But it's not Bobo!" I began to protest, but it was too late. There was no one at the other end of the line, and Mystere was no doubt back in the land of slumber, tucked warmly in more dreams of attaining British superstardom.
Bobo! Of course! It takes an ape to beat an ape! Bobo would save the day! I let loose with my special cry, the Virgin Squeal. The scream, the high pitched product of repressed testosterone, echoed throughout my lair, down through the foundations, down to my basement laboratory, where the Virgincomputer's audio receptors recognized the signal and electronically unlocked Bobo the Virgin Chimp's cage. Meanwhile, as Bobo ran upstairs to find me, I was in the kitchen dodging banana-smeared throwing stars as the ninja monkeys continued their assault against me. I halted the stars in mid-air with my atomic vision, but I was gaining no ground, and, lacking my beauty sleep, I was beginning to tire.
Fortunately, Bobo burst into the room with a loud shriek! The ninja monkeys cowered at the sight of this great ape, 3 times their size. Bobo let loose with a devastating barrage of monkey guano, pelting the furry little scoundrels of the Orient and causing them to leap madly, and shriek, in disgust and terror. A furious battle of feces-flinging ensued, desanitizing my kitchen and lasting a good 3 hours, more epic than a civil war battle. Finally, the ninja monkeys retreated, grabbing what was left of the six-pack of Jolt Cola and a package of Poprocks and running out the door, scrambling to their Ford Pinto and speeding up the street, squealing about their score.
"Good job Bobo," I told my ape companion, "Christ, it's late. I've gotta work tomorrow, I'm going to bed." I handed him a magazine, "Here's a Teen Beat, go back to your cage. Nite Bobo." and with that, I went to bed.
Returning home from work today, I found quite a bit of clean-up work ahead of me. In addition to all the monkey-dung stuck to the walls, I found out the ninja monkeys must have gotten into my private film collection. I'm still cleaning all the monkey-gum out of my DVD player.
On a positive note, upon returning to sleep, I was able to finish my dream. Apparently, the punchline to the episode involved Don Knotts being kidnapped during the date and ending up in pictures on NAMBLA's website. (Cue clichéd funny music here) Waw waw waw waw. Good day!
Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
Again.
There I was, tucked in and cute as a button, sleeping soundly in my sleeping cap, Green Lantern T-shirt and happy-face boxers, under my Pee Wee's Playhouse comforter and Batman bed sheets, dreaming sweet dreams of sharing an apartment with Elvira and Betty Page, and having to dress as a woman to avoid being evicted. I was in the middle of a hilarity-filled scenario in which I was meeting a ravishingly beautiful female friend from the internet for the first time ever, but in my nervousness, had sent her a picture of Don Knotts instead. It was as I was trying to convince Don Knotts to impersonate me and go on the date with her when I heard a loud crash from my kitchen, and woke up immediately.
I jumped up from my bed , eyes still heavy from slumber , and threw on my robe , thinking all the while , "What would Tom Baker do?" I grabbed my cane and ran down the hall, hoping the effects of my waking virility would be unnoticeable by the time I reached the kitchen.
There they were.
Ninja monkeys. Screeching and laughing loudly as they went through my cupboards, and jumping all around my kitchen, leaving monkey-buttprints on my counters. Last time, they had taken all my Pez and broken into my stash of rootbeer. This time, it looked as though they were after Poprocks and Jolt Cola.
“What are you vile simian simpletons doing?!” I cried at the monkeys, “be gone from my residence for the last time you bastardly beasts! ”
I knew should have thought twice about moving into a place with a monkey-dojo up the street, but it was either that or move into the place next to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I knew I didn’t want to answer the door half as often as that location would no-doubt force me to.
The monkeys screamed and jumped around, scrambling all over the place and knocking the magnets off of my refrigerator, all the magnets except some of the alphabet magnets, which they had spelled out to write “Virgin penis banana monkey fart”. They were no doubt practicing, they had to be working on the world’s greatest novel once again. I kicked at the monkeys scrambling around my kitchen. One of them retaliated by mixing a can of Jolt cola and Poprocks and throwing the fizzing projectile at me.
"Ack! Gross!" I cried as Jolt Cola sprayed my face. I ran to the phone to call my ally, Mister Mystere, the prude from New England, surely he could help. The phone rang thrice before his answering machine picked up.
"Why hello. You've reached the lair of the mysterious Mister Mystere. I must presently be away righting wrongs. I shall be glad to return your phone call upon returning to my abode, but I must know where to call. Please don't leave me in suspense!"
"Mystere! Pick up the phone! ‘Tis I, The Virgin Prince! I need your help!" I hollered into the phone.
"Huhh... wha..?" came Mystere's groggy response as he answered the phone, "what? No, Victoria... I assure you Mystere is a much better last name than Beckham... yes Geri can come too... yes, I like the frilly number, wear that..."
"MYSTERE! WAKE UP!" I yelled into the phone.
"Fuzzamagimmillee, HUH? What? Who is it?"
"It's me, the Virgin Prince. I require assistance!"
"It's 3 in the morning. Go to sleep! The crime'll still be there in the morning." muttered Mister Mystere angrily.
"I'm not fighting crime! I'm at home! I'm being attacked by monkeys! By monkeys, I say!"
"Virgin, just give Bobo a Teen Beat magazine and lock him in his cage." Mystere said as he hung up the phone.
"But it's not Bobo!" I began to protest, but it was too late. There was no one at the other end of the line, and Mystere was no doubt back in the land of slumber, tucked warmly in more dreams of attaining British superstardom.
Bobo! Of course! It takes an ape to beat an ape! Bobo would save the day! I let loose with my special cry, the Virgin Squeal. The scream, the high pitched product of repressed testosterone, echoed throughout my lair, down through the foundations, down to my basement laboratory, where the Virgincomputer's audio receptors recognized the signal and electronically unlocked Bobo the Virgin Chimp's cage. Meanwhile, as Bobo ran upstairs to find me, I was in the kitchen dodging banana-smeared throwing stars as the ninja monkeys continued their assault against me. I halted the stars in mid-air with my atomic vision, but I was gaining no ground, and, lacking my beauty sleep, I was beginning to tire.
Fortunately, Bobo burst into the room with a loud shriek! The ninja monkeys cowered at the sight of this great ape, 3 times their size. Bobo let loose with a devastating barrage of monkey guano, pelting the furry little scoundrels of the Orient and causing them to leap madly, and shriek, in disgust and terror. A furious battle of feces-flinging ensued, desanitizing my kitchen and lasting a good 3 hours, more epic than a civil war battle. Finally, the ninja monkeys retreated, grabbing what was left of the six-pack of Jolt Cola and a package of Poprocks and running out the door, scrambling to their Ford Pinto and speeding up the street, squealing about their score.
"Good job Bobo," I told my ape companion, "Christ, it's late. I've gotta work tomorrow, I'm going to bed." I handed him a magazine, "Here's a Teen Beat, go back to your cage. Nite Bobo." and with that, I went to bed.
Returning home from work today, I found quite a bit of clean-up work ahead of me. In addition to all the monkey-dung stuck to the walls, I found out the ninja monkeys must have gotten into my private film collection. I'm still cleaning all the monkey-gum out of my DVD player.
On a positive note, upon returning to sleep, I was able to finish my dream. Apparently, the punchline to the episode involved Don Knotts being kidnapped during the date and ending up in pictures on NAMBLA's website. (Cue clichéd funny music here) Waw waw waw waw. Good day!
The Virgin Prince
