Berfitz quickly slayed the bastards who had runined his beautiful
story by making it something sexual. "This story is meant for babbler's,
not morons. If you are just going to be stupid, fuck off.", Berfitz
thought to himself with exceeding caution. Suddenly, he entered Holland.
When he finally stopped screaming, he checked into a hotel. Berfitz
screamed because he realized the sysop was incredibly stupid beyond
belief!! After all, if this story wasn't supposed to be sexual he sure
as hell picked the wrong country to go to-everyone knows about dutch girls
and their...<
Anyhow, Berfitz decided to stay in Holland and go to Amsterdam
where it it legal to get stoned in public or private-ah what a beautiful
liberal country Berfitz thought- and he went into a restaurant and
ordered a grass cake. Unused to the combination of marijuana and
instant cake mix, he quickly lost all of his senses and went Berzerk
killing as many sysops as he could find in Holland. When he recovered he
looked down to where is di<
Berfitz was walking along to the unemployment office, having left
his job as ruler of the underworld and conqueror of the multiverse.
Suddenly, Berfitz syumbled upon a small and EXTREMLY dead wombat.
Berfitz smiled. His kindly and almost sainted mother had just this very
morning, given to her happy son, Berfitz, as mentioned before, a
wonderful receipe for "VERY Dead Wombat Stew" and it called for One
(1) Very Dead Wombat. Berfitz picked up the DEAD WOMBAT and put
it in his haversack and started to whistle a jaunty tune. Obviously,
his tune was a little TOO jaunty, for as he turned the corner he saw
the VERY dead wombats kith and kin gathered by the roadside moaning
and groaning because they had hired an undertaker (from the Wing On
funeral home on Spadina) and a hearse, and a brass band to folow the
hearse... along with some very expensive profesional mourners... and
now they couldn't find the dear departed! Berfitz guiltily shifted
his haversack and thought about other possible routes home when his
haversack burst open and a pile of very ripe wombat intestines hit
the ground with a splap.
"AAarrgh!" Said the incensed mob of the Wombats.
"Oooh!" whimpered Berfitz as he realized the gig was up.
"AAAAOOOOGGAH!" screamed the VERY dead wombat, who not only was dead,
but wasn't feeling all that well. With that Berfitz lifted his skirts and
ran for home with all the power his freaky little legs could muster.
Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough and the crowd of wombats chased
him right up to his door. He barely got the door closed in time. Soon
his house was surrounded by infuriated and righteous wombats, all
screaming for his heart's reddest blood. They'd pulled down his phone
line, so he couldn't call 911. What could he do? Weelll... the way I
see it, now would be a good time to try a Mexico vacation. Yeah. Its
always a good time for a Mexican vacation. So, Berfitz hopped on a
jet and departed for Ixtapa, Mexico. Fortunately, Berfitz had learned
a little Spanish in church. As Berfitz's (pronounce that - its fun)
plane pulled into the airport, Berfitz nearly puked asphalt when he
saw nothing. He went on his marry way eating Nestle's dung and
formating disks like a sweaty-toothed guy. He came upon a relative
of his and laughed in his face and killed him serenely. The relative
cried back and removed the stone that had been driven into his food.
"hey!"
"what?"
The diologue was coming to an end when a seahawk(who had
found HIS papers) wattled down upon them and urged them to stop
predicting his future. "You'll die", murmured Berfitz. He suddenly
felt ill. It was Mexico. Hell. Berfitz quickly flew back to his
humble (but not TOO humble) abode, which was still surrounded.
Suddenly there was a break in the weather and it started to rain cats
and dogs. What a lucky break for Berfitz. The cats and dogs all started
fighting with the wombats and with each other. Soon his froBerfitz went
to the store. "What the hell," he thought. "It's a nice, with the cats
and dogs and wombats and all. They're so romantic." This gave Berfitz
an idea... He whipped out his toe- ail clipper and began to slice his
way through a priest like there was no tommorrow's going out of style.
The priest protested, and much to the Commisioner's dislike, he lit
the match, enbalmed the goner, and blah blah blah...
What a problem, Berfitz thought to himself, but it does give me
some time to meditate. So he did. For two years. He saw God and listened
to Black Sabbath albums played backwards. Just like Bob. Bob always
liked to lick things first before he smelled them up close. It gave him
a false sense of security just to fondle strange objects with his tounge.
Bob had an iguana's tounge surgically implanted in his mouth just so he
could do that very thing. Why it was an accident of Bob's in the first
place that freed the hapless Berfitz. Bob was licking the cemetary one
day and found a nice spot. He kept licking 'til he got 17 feet under
and heard some strange chanting going on. Being a curious Bob he kept
on licking 'til he hit pay dirt.
Berfitz slinked out of the coffin much like General Grant
slinked from his saddle horse Julia on his 4th birthday. Bob said
"Hey, y'know, that looks just like Gen-" before he ate himself.
Berfitz leaned against a giant Eagle in exhaustion. The Eagle did
nother for awhile, then stepped to the left and started speak pig
latin like a bandit in heat on cold linoleum. Berfitz, of course,
understood the Eagle's pig latin perfectly and soon gathered that
the Ealge wanted him to climb upon his back. So, Berfitz bravely took
the bull by the horns and went for a fly around the city. The Eagle
only played one mean trick. That one was a loo-loo thoug. He climbed
to 2,000 ft, shook poor Berfitz loose and then raced down to catch
him. Berfitz was finally safe and sound on the Eagles back at with
25 feet left to ground level. Gosh, what an exciting adventure!
Part 2 - The Adventure Of The Dead Wombat
Part 3 - Berfitz's Coffin