mrSHEiK124
Lifer
- Mar 6, 2004
- 11,488
- 2
- 0
Prof. Gunderson fumbled slowly with an alternator sized mouse that had popped out of his air conditioner, when he was met with an interesting surprise from one of his lesser students.
Prof. Gunderson fumbled slowly with an alternator sized mouse that had popped out of his air conditioner, when he was met with an interesting surprise from one of his lesser students.
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,940
- 10,840
- 147
Snubbed by the geekily cheap academic solely on price, the eight dollar hooker leaped several paragraphs ahead in time and snuffed the very life out of this alternative story line.
Her revenge was utter and complete.
The mouse had been planted, the AC controls set, and the beady eyed TA had only one thing on his mind...SUPRISE BUTTSECKS!
With a last frantic perusal of the letter from his hero, Tom Cruise, and a silent prayer to Xenon to increase his operating Thetan level, Bob took a deep breath.
joesmoke
Diamond Member
- Nov 2, 2007
- 5,420
- 2
- 0
The Principal stood silently for a few minutes after dismissing the Professor and his ward. Their task had been assigned, and they knew better than to disappoint the Principal. After all, that was how the last "assistant" met his end.
"And to think, THEY said THIS wasn't science..." the Principal said quietly to himself as he strode to the locked cabinet in the corner. Moments later, the "special" box was out of the cabinet and on his desk, where it stood open. A noxious glow from the box painted shadows along his face, turning his perverted grin into a sneer.
In the parking lot, the professor and his assistant sat in the professors 1998 malibu, snorting unhealthy amounts of cocaine. "line me up one more, and then we gotta, you know we cant be late when it comes to the principal" the professor said in a haze. "ya ya", responded the assistant, "im well aware of that. And besides, I'm sure $70 will be more than enough" Soon after, the malibu pulled from the parking lot, heading towards the south side of town.
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,940
- 10,840
- 147
"No iffs, no ands, only buttsex!" Bob was both awed and excited that not only had Tom Cruise bothered to respond to the plea for advice in his giant Hollywood Blvd. billboard, but had been both eloquent and intensely supportive. He had the mouse, he had the A/C schematic, he had donned the speedo and helmet, and NOW he had the crucial moral support and direction. He was definitely on Cruise Control. That $40,000 for the billboard had really been worth it!
He slowly but resolutelyn stood up, which subtly altered the uneasy contour of the three sizes too small fuscia speedo against his raging manhood and
He walked out of the Radio Shack and finally opened the letter he'd pulled out of the university mailbox hours ago. His heart pounded as he caught the signature. Tom Cruise. THE Tom Cruise. Skimming the letter, one line in particular caught his eye.
The professor read the letter one more time, hoping it would register fully this time. Bob certainly didn't fit the profile, but he was Canadian, so he couldn't put it past him. "Suprise buttsecks huh?" he said to himself, incredulously, "Looks like I'm in Tom's debt...again". But why the double cross? What did Tom Cruise, of all people, have to gain from the demise of a lowly TA? Something was wrong here, and he was determined to come out on top this time.
Meanwhile next door, Bob climbed down from the seat of his tired old ten-speed, cursing last night's decision to put off laundry for another day. He strode into the store, catching an awkward glance from the clerk, to buy those circuits the professor kept asking for. The mouse stuffed in his speedo shifted wrestlessly.
- Oct 9, 1999
- 46,940
- 10,840
- 147
Two hours before, he had tried to drown his deepening sorrows the only way he knew how, with seven Taco Bell bean burritos drenched in 10 packets of fire sauce each and several 40's of his favorite, Shitz Laxative Fortified Malt Liquor.
It had always been a bad idea, but Bob was a slow learner. He had hoped the $18,000 he had spent on Scientology courses would have helped, but now he just wasn't sure.
The ominous rumblings in his belly meant that he only had time to grab his mail before hopping on his riced-up Segway and speeding across town to the RatShack, the only establishment in this entire University enclave overrun with grossly unhousebroken Philosophy majors that still sported a reasonably clean toilet. It was going to be one close call, but years of Zen sphincter control gave him confidence he could make it.
Edit: (see post above) But what about Bob's evil clone Bob (spelled backwards) and that ratty ten speed he moseyed about on? Was teaching him to mimic Tom Cruise's handwriting a mistake? Was he secretly in league with Prof. Gunderson? Only time would tell.
"Who could that be?" grumbled the professor, getting up from his workbench. As he reached for the doorknob, the door flew open with a crash, barely missing the mini-nuke "extra" security device he had rigged up.
A masked man stormed in. The professor, alarmed, flew for his workbench. He covered the electric pistol and grabbed his gerbil inseminator and pointed it straight at the intruder's heart. "Who are you?!"
The masked man growled, "Nobody. I only came to bring you this." He threw a letter down at the professor's feet. Instantly he was gone.
The professor slowly reached for the letter and examined the contents.
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