Today it is our great pleasure to bring to you, our devoted Kreationists, a glimpse into the mysterious past of one of the greatest Kreators known to man, woman, or in-between. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. We have unearthed early footage of a young Chris Peebles, which through extensive karbon dating is believed to be exactly two years, 235 days, and six hours old. It is not hard to see the nucleus of what would soon become legendary and unbounded kreation in these videos. Imbibe:
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Fiction Korner
Breakfast is delicious. I take my eggs with a virgin screwdriver. A savory confection of cooked wheat flour and baker's yeast provides the perfect spreading surface for churned cow's milk.
I had just sat down to consume the aforementioned morning vittles when Frank arrived. I stared in shock, viscous maple tree sap dribbling down my chin, as he effortlessly did a backflip through the gaping hole in my exterior wall. How ironic. That was the day I was going to patch-up that hole. I had never intended it to function as a means of entry into my home for a person I really didn't like.
I never saw Frank the same way ever since he killed my father. Now he was in my house, one of seven places where I truly feel safe. All I could do was continue kneeling in my chair as he callously ate my pan-fried swine meat.
After 16 minutes I could no longer take it.
"Get out of here Frank!" I bellowed.
"Nine!" he replied defiantly. "It's a German number that also means 'no'"
Killing my father was one thing, but questioning my knowledge of the German language was quite another. Frank had gone too far. So I called the local law enforcement authority and had him arrested.
--Jawn Steighmeaus
I had just sat down to consume the aforementioned morning vittles when Frank arrived. I stared in shock, viscous maple tree sap dribbling down my chin, as he effortlessly did a backflip through the gaping hole in my exterior wall. How ironic. That was the day I was going to patch-up that hole. I had never intended it to function as a means of entry into my home for a person I really didn't like.
I never saw Frank the same way ever since he killed my father. Now he was in my house, one of seven places where I truly feel safe. All I could do was continue kneeling in my chair as he callously ate my pan-fried swine meat.
After 16 minutes I could no longer take it.
"Get out of here Frank!" I bellowed.
"Nine!" he replied defiantly. "It's a German number that also means 'no'"
Killing my father was one thing, but questioning my knowledge of the German language was quite another. Frank had gone too far. So I called the local law enforcement authority and had him arrested.
--Jawn Steighmeaus
Komedy Korner
Here's the latest erudite jest from Svetlana Mendoza. If you merely pass it off as crude and low-brow, the Korner extends you our deepest sympathies. Absorb:
Q: What do you call an erection at a funeral?
A: Mourning wood.
Q: What do you call an erection at a funeral?
A: Mourning wood.
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