Writings » This is TECHNICOLOR

This is TECHNICOLOR

By Shitwincer at 2007-12-13 | Ridiculous!, Comedy | Printable version

I am TECHNICOLOR, rival and arch-nemesis of the common folk, I don't flush, and I will always give you cancer.  Armed with my trusty capped Chevy Conquista, and an infinite set of Teflon frying pans, we ride the skies and are worshipped by half of Norway.  My origin is quite a tale, one not audible in American tongue, but there's involvement of owls mating, and several, several games of strip poker with Ronald Regan.  My smack is so fresh; I turn newborns to prostitution, thus continuing the vicious cycle of Megan's Law. I am Progeria.  I eat all your uncooked bacon, and watch your television for minimum wage while you break your ass for the man.  Party clowns fear me, and I draw privates on your walls with crayon, then watch you beat and scold your children for it.  I make the best barbeque sauce in the world, and I sniff your windowsill for any traces of pie. I also herd Frenchmen for the soul purpose to cut you in line at lunch.  I can deploy candlesticks into any rectum with one thrust, shoot manatees from my bare hands, and punch cacti into oblivion.  I am the life of the party, and I obtain all your financial data from your chatterbox stainless steel appliances.  I am responsible for 9 out of 10 of your family pet deaths; the others are usually road pizza I view from a beach chair.  I give people cleft chins by karate chopping faces every night while their sleeping. I burn all your toilet paper, and sell your shoes to guys who think their better then you. My doppelganger Castro sends me cigars on slave boats, of which I use to ash in your peppershakers.  I urinate on the ceiling so everyone smells the odor, yet no one can find the source, and Herpes is my middle name.  A grifter of personal effects, I bribe your senior citizens to steal your buttons and pocket change, and then liquidate there social security.  I always use my outside voice, especially when feeding your infants chocolate at 2 AM. But a whisper in a teenager's ear will further confuse them about there sexuality.  I'm the guy you don't want your daughter to go to prom with, and the man who climbs into bed with your wife when you're on that business trip. Maury says you're not the father, which usually means it's probably me, especially when it's like round 8 with no answer in sight.  I eat your birth control pills, wrangle spiders indoors, and hide the plunger during the daily bulky brown baptism.   I flip cops off in your back seat, and add rubbing alcohol to your family drinks to spice up DWI checkpoints.  I make love to the sound of alka-seltzer and seagulls, and leave your front door open for Canadians.  I am TECHNICOLOR, killer of mini-vans, and keeper of the touch that causes grown men to shit their pants. There isn't much I don't screw with, and when you hear my name, you will remember this fucking face...Kirby Puckett smiling in a pink sombrero on top of your naked mother.  Now leave me in peace, as I watch Blossom on TNT, and plot how to further raise your Cholesterol.