the little immigrant part 2

"I now bestow upon you a wonderous gift," Said the Stork as he squatted down. Enlarging his already large anal cavity, he shot out a tiny white baby from his tooshie with so much force that it ricocheted off the walls of the clinic like Coolboy_345 playing pong at level 499.



After about a minute's worth of ricocheting, the baby floated gently into You's hands. He was as white as a hillbilly rapping about greasy skillets. You carried him home gleefully, unaware of the impending danger that threatened the land over the hills and far away.



Well anyway, that was how Hey was born.



Two years later, Hey was two years older. By this time, he was two years old, meaning that he had full access to the cookie jar. That Wednesday six years after the two years after he was born, he went out to the northern bud of the iron potato to catch some yeast for dinner.

The northern bud was a strange place. It was a large crater filled with long, hairlike bristles(known as pubushes due to their rather pubic appearance), and it was teeming with strange organisms such as Hideous Crotchsponges and Feminists. However, it was also the number one place over the hills and far away to catch yeast. All one had to do was through a loaf of bread in and it would turn out a heck of a lot yeastier. Yeast was truly THE snack for for citizens of the iron potato, they would munch on the yeast till they even ate into the bread!

A solitary crotchsponge drifted overhead as Hey foraged through the pubushes. Armed only with a baguette, he bravely ventured deeper and deeper. The children of the iron potato were oft warned not to venture too far deep into the northern bud, especially if they were male or were not born on a monday (Everyone knows crotchsponges get angry on mondays). However, Hey had an insatiable craving which had to be satisfied and, no thorny pubes or angry crotchsponges were going to stand in his way. He was an eight-year old. An eight-year old with a baguette.

Soon, the sky turned dark, and only half of Hey's baguette was yeasty. It was a rule amongst men only to return home when your loaf was fully yeasted. Thus, he continued on. After walking about thirty steps after it got dark, the bushes got to thick for Hey to see through, so he decided to pick up a branch and prod his way around. (That was an absolute no-no, no one prods in the northern bud for obvious reasons)

Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. Hard. SQUELCH!

The day hadn't been a good one, due to the lack of yeast, and it was about to get worse. The loud drumming of Feminist drummers and the buzzing of Feminist aerial opervatives filled the air almost instantaneously. Things did not look good for our little baguette toting hero...

the little immigrant part 1

Once upon a time, there was a dirty little immigrant slave boy from the amazingly green land over the hills and far away. He was so dirty that he had a cancerous mole growing out of a non-cancerous mole on his dirty scum covered forehead. This is his story.


The cancerous immgrant slave boy worked day and night in a sweatshop run by a rich bajillionaire known only as Mr. Tightfit. Neither the little immigrant boy nor any of his other tacoland sweatshop co-workers had ever seen their master up close. Some had speculated he was really the milkman in disguise, while others felt that he was a vile tentacled beast with a horns growing out of his bajoojink, but whatever the case, no one really knew, and no one really cared, as long as they got to take some of his monies home to buy some seashell biscuits after work.

But first, let us go back in time. To a place over the hills and far away, where music was music, and joyful singing and dust fairies filled the air. It was on the iron potato that the immigrant boy was born, and where his wonderful adventures began...

"Hey lady... you got the love I need... Maybe... More than enough..."

You gently rocked his newborn son in his arms as he sang him to sleep with the national anthem. His son was special, he was the only one over the hills and far away that did not have a single blemish on his smooth white ass. Just like many others in the village, You was named after the secret language of the ancients, as was his son, Hey, those were truly beautiful names. You lived peacefully with his wife, Wassup, who also happened to be a descendant of Aloha, the famous naughty minx who acted in Naughty Vampire Sheriff Parole III.

After You had pressed start, he was asked by the text box to name his rival, and subsequently choose his pokeball.

"Well, let it out!" The Doctor urged You, wildly flailing his arms as he ran a marathon around the clinic.

You hurled the ball into the air, and let the contents spill out. Suddenly, a blinding flash of gordon blinded everyone in the clinic...

The stork had come.