Halloween Tales

Hello, blogger friends. Welcome to the House of Horror. Also known as Casa de Prunella. I am your host, Ishmael. Call me Ish. Please enter at your own risk. Muyhahahahahaha.




Today we will be bringing you a story so scary, you'll wet your pants! Provided you're wearing them, that is. Muyhahahahaha...(cough, cough)....sorry about that, it's the blood. Anyway, prepare yourselves now for the incrediably strange tale of Jackie Waffles: THE CAT WHO ATE UNTIL HE DISAPPEARED!!!!

Let us begin...



Jackie Waffles was your average everyday American kitten. Kinda slow and rather fat, but all in all quite typical. Some might call him the Joe the Plumber of cats.

I wouldn't, but some might.



He enjoyed doing all the typical kitten things, like jumping at door frames.



And tearing the leaves off of plants.



And, of course, sleeping in his tiny bowl.



But his favorite thing in the world to do was eat. He loved to eat so much he would meow pitifully and loudly ten times a day until someone put some food down for him. He could never, ever get enough.



Even after eating ten bowls he would lay around, bloated and full and daydream of ways to break into the pantry where the food was kept. If he could just find some way to get in there, he could eat the entire 20 pound bag of Meow Mix all by himself and not have to share it with the other two cats. Oh, how happy he would be!





Then one day, amazingly enough, his dream came true! Someone left the pantry door open just enough to let Jackie in. He tore open the packaging and quickly gobbled up the entire bag of cat food.





Afterwards he staggered over to his favorite tiny bowl and fell into a blissful sleep, happy to have achieved his dream at last.

Well, you know the old saying Careful What You Wish For, don't you kids? It turns out that this was no ordinary bag of Meow Mix. This bag of cat food, that he had so greedily ripped open and devoured, had been made in China and was tainted with some very, very bad Chinese chemicals. Possibly nuclear waste.


But unlike the Japanese nuclear waste which turned a small lizard into Godzilla, this stuff had the opposite effect on the already massive Jackie Waffles....




What the....?"

It caused him to shrink.




Now he was too tiny to jump at the door frame.




"Crap!"

Tearing up plants was too hard.





And eating was no fun. It took forever, now that the kibble was bigger than his itty bitty mouth.




This sucks, yo."


But the worst was yet to come. You see, Jackie had become so small no one could hear his wee little meows. Certainly not his practically deaf owner.





"Jackie Waffles! Where are you, you big doofus?"



And even more unfortunate for Jackie, his owner couldn't see too well either.







"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"








"Jackie?? Where is that stoopid cat? Jackie?"






Muyhahahahahhahaha.

An ironic end for such a greedy little cat, wouldn't you agree? Well.....sort of ironic anyway? Irony as defined by Alanis Morrisette? Like raaaaayaain on your wedding day....?

Whatever.

My New Love

Back when my dad was alive, he and I used to spend most of our time together arguing. It was a natural thing to do since my dad was a Rush Limbaugh listening, Fox News watching, Reagan worshiping republican, and I'm....not, so when we got together there was a lot of shouting. Really, thinking back on it I suppose it was a good way for us to connect. If we didn't argue about politics then we wouldn't have talked much at all. The only thing we ever had in common was our love of watching MASH reruns while eating peanut butter crackers.

My dad would have loved this election season. I'm sure he'd be lusting over Sarah Palin, and raging against that godless communist Obama. He might have hated Obama even more than Bill Clinton if that's possible. The happiest I ever saw him was during the Clinton impeachment. He used to call me up every night and begin the conversation with, "Did you hear what your buddy Clinton did today?" while cackling madly.

If he were alive right now, I know he'd also be a huge supporter of Prop 8 in California. The thought of gays marrying made him crazy with fear. He had a horror of gays. Whenever discussing someone known to be gay (like my cousin James, for instance) he'd make his wrist go limp and say something in a lisping voice like, "He's one of those tutti-fruttis."

"Wow," I'd tell him, "you're a real natural at that. Are you sure you're not secretly in the closet?"

Like most republicans though, he didn't have much of a sense of humor. Jokes like that would make him scowl.

I always thought the best way to rebel against him would have been to declare myself a lesbian and hook up with the butchiest, most Johnny Cash-looking chick I could find. We'd become truck drivers and wear nothing but flannel and then get pregnant with the aid of a turky baster and the sperm of our homosexual decorator friend named Jeffery. And once the baby was born we'd all march to Washington demanding that the design of the American flag be changed from blue and red stars and stripes, to rainbows surrounding a plate of sushi. Then we'd go on a gay cruise with Rosie O'Donnell. If that had happened, my dad's head would have exploded just like that guy in the movie Scanners.



My daughter...Rosie O'Donnell....turkey baster?!!!! Aaaaaaaaghhhh!


I loved this idea so much I decided to give sapphic love a try once I got to college. After all I went to the Lilith Fair when it came around and had fun, and also enjoy the gentle humor of Ellen DeGenerous, so why not? I even made a list of reasons why lesbianism would be better for me.


1. In magazines and paintings and such I prefer to look at women's bodies rather than men's. A naked man kind of has to be in the same room with me for me to fully appreciate him.

2. My children could have two mommies which would be nice when it came to diaper changing, and other bummer things that come with kids. Also, I'd get my wife to go through the pregnancy, deliver the babe, and breastfeed. That way I'd get a kid without messing up my body and having my boobs sag.

3. Shared period supplies.

4. I'm a girl's girl. Women are fun!


However, I found out first hand that you can't really choose your sexuality. You are either hetrosexual or you're not. It's not something you can really change either way. And why should you have to in order to experience all the benefits of marriage? A person can't help being what they are and loving who they love. Why should this be a problem? Gay marriage should be legal in every state IMO. It's hard to believe it is 2008 and this is still an issue.

My dad - like Sarah Palin - thought that letting gays marry would set a "dangerous precedent."

"What do you mean by that?" I'd ask.

"Well Pru, if you stop defining marriage as between one man and one woman only, you are opening a lot of doors better left closed. I mean, what's to stop someone from deciding they want to marry ten women, like the damn Mormons? Huh? And then the next thing you know, some bozo would try to marry his horse! Or a car or something. You know it would happen." At that point he'd shake his head with disgust. "Your buddy Clinton would probably try to marry a cigar."

How can you argue with that kind of logic? I'd just roll my eyes at him and run off to smoke the demon weed with my friends.

But now, I see that my dad might have been correct. Once a sacred line has been crossed anything can happen.

As the poets say, love makes you do crazy things. I never really appreciated this till now. For you see, my blogger friends, I have fallen in love - crazily, deeply, madly in love - but not with any man.

And not with a woman either.

No, the object of my affections isn't human at all. This may be shocking, I know. Some might blame it on the fact that gays are now allowed to marry in three states. Maybe if it weren't for that, I'd never have been tempted to flaunt tradition and indulge in an unholy, forbidden love. A love that cannot be condoned by most patriotic, right-thinkin' Americans.

Dang you for being right, Dad!

But you know what? I don't care. I don't care that society would frown on our relationship. Society can kiss my ass! I don't care if our getting hitched would make a mockery of the institution of marriage. And I don't care if the bible says it's wrong.


I love this pair of shoes with all of my being and I'm not ashamed to say it. I love them! And if I could wed them immediately I would.




Don't judge me. I couldn't help it. It was love at first sight. I knew we were destined for one another from the moment I tried them on. We are soul mates. Oooops, make that "sole mates." These shoes are everything I have ever wanted. Size 8 narrow, 2 1/2 inch heel silver leather beauties that make my legs look bitchin' yet are super comfortable? Hell yes! Come to me my lovelies, you are mine! I'll make you Mrs. Jones soon!





Oh sure, there might have to be some compromises. I had to put an extra hole in the straps to make them tighter. And I can't wear them everywhere I go - hiking for instance, they might get muddy - but I see the two of us having a long happy life together. And isn't that what's important, after all?




The only thing they are missing is taps on the heels. But since I have no ability to tap dance, it's okay. We'll dance around pretending to tap anyway. We are young and in love! Who can stop us? Not you, Dad. Not you either, Sarah "Bible Spice" Palin! Your "dangerous precedent" has been set already and there is nothing you can do about it. We're here so kiss our rear, 'cause we're not going away!

My love and I are going to tap dance over to Vera Wang right now and look at gowns. Then we are going to get registered over at Nordstroms. Please wish us joy! And if you want to get us something, we'd like a new coat. A size medium cloth coat in sapphire blue would make us both happy. Really.

Hobo Queen

I wanna be a hobo woman
in fact, I want to be their queen.
I'll wander around the country
and dine on bum cuisine.
Which I imagine consists of
Thunderbird and cans of beans.

All I'll need are my sturdy legs
and a pair of steel tipped boots.
When other hobos get a glimpse of me
they will start to clap and hoot.
And hork up big balls of globby spit
in an admiring hobo salute.

As hobo queen I shall have my choice
of the finest cigarette butts.
A cardboard box to keep the rain off my head
and a pair of junkyard mutts.
If anyone tried to mess with me
they'd feel my knife in their guts.

Then I'd wait out in the railroad yard
for the next train to come along,
playing an old harmonica
and singing a fun folk song.
About a bum named Big John Toenail
who could open cans with his schlong.

I'd cuss and fart and fight all night,
maybe even grow a beard.
A silky blonde chin covering
for which I'd be revered.
Because a hirsuit, lady vagabond
is a woman to be feared.

Now you don't need to lecture me
about things like good hygiene.
Because, as every hobo knows
dirt makes the best sunscreen.
Bum wine works well to kill the germs
and bleach my black teeth green.

My breath will positively reek
like an outhouse in July.
My appearance will make children shriek
and grown men start to cry.
But if you dare make fun of me
you'll get stabbed in the eye.

A hobo queen demands respect
so you'd better quit that smirking.
Or my hobo army might get pissed
and then they'll start berserking.
You might not like our filthy life
but hey, it sure beats working.



All hail good Queen Prunella "Strangey" Jones! Oh yeah! Wooooooo!

Debate Haikus

I watched the debates last night. I must say, there was way too much talk about some guy named Joe the Plumber. Who cares about Joe the Plumber? What about Prunella the Stripper? What about my needs, huh? No one addressed those!


Where was John's flag pin?
Does he hate America?
Say it ain't so, Joe!


Palin make good prez
cause she understands retards
being one herself.


Is that an ACORN
stuffed in McCain's cheek or is
he happy to see me?


Looks like he can't tell
Autism from Down Syndrome.
That's mavericky.


Joe the plumber? Yawn
enough with the plumber's cracks!
See what I did there? ;)


McCain/Palin have
an exciting new plan for
healthcare in the U.S.

Doctors aren't needed.
We shall simply ask God to
cast thy demons out!


So Sarah Palin
is a breast of freth air, eh?
blink..blink..blink..blink..blink


Joe the Plumber and
Joe Six-Pack are now in love.
Why can't they marry?


Your concern for the
health of mothers is touching.
(Air quotes) Fuck you bitch!


Angry, mean old man
I'm not gonna vote for you
but will stay off your lawn.

The Power of Vinegar and Water Compels You

Well, this weekend really flew by! I took the creepy vase with me to work at The Boobie Barn and let him read the furure for all the other dancers. For some reason they didn't like very much. A few cried.

Captain Peanut told me to take it away. His exact words were, "Prunella, that shit ain't funny. Get that fucking freaky ass shit out my face before I bust you a new ass." I could tell he was seriously freaked out and this knowlege makes me happy. I am going to have a lot of fun this Halloween.

This one kind of bible thumping girl named Michelle told me the creepy vase was satanic and probably possessed by a demon. She suggested sprinkling it with holy water. This is how that conversation went:

HER: I'm telling you, that thing needs an exorcism. It's unholy.

ME: Do you mean unholy in a Sarah Palin kind of way, or like the antichrist? Oh wait, they're the same.

HER: Huh? Who is Sarah Palin?

ME: (sigh) Nevermind.

HER: If only we had some holy water.

ME: Hmmmm...well, I don't usually carry holy water around with me, but let me see what I have in my locker. Hey, here's some Summer's Eve TM. Why don't we sprinkle some of this on it?

HER: You are going to make God really mad.

ME: Hey, if we put this stuff in our vaginas, don't you think it is bound to be extra pure and good?

So I doused the creepy vase with the douche water while she read some bible passage and everyone gathered around, hoping to see it explode into flames or something. Nothing like that happened though. The vase just giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl and then fell quiet.

Later on, after I brought it back home, the vase told me it had finally lost "that not so fresh feeling", so maybe the exorcism worked. MAybe now it'll spout nice predictions instead of doom and gloom.



"I see giant, stinging moths taking over the world, I see the death of all your hopes and dreams, I see McCain winning the election, I see....."

Or maybe not.

Creepy Vase Knows All...Tells All

Guess what? Not only is the new vase decorative, it also has powers.

"Super psychic powers." (air quotes)

That's what it tells me anyway. It says it can forsee the future. And I'm all, yeah right!



No, it's trooooooo. I can read your future from your aura. Which I am reading right now for you, Prunella Jones. Yes......very interesting...


Oh? Fine, I'll bite. What do you see in my future?

I'm seeing the color green surrounding you. Lots and lots of green...

Really? As in money? Am I going to get lots of money soon?

No....it's more....hmmm I think related to leaves? Grass maybe....

Weed? Am I gonna get a big bag of weed soon? Sweet!

No....ah yes...it's all becoming clearer now. You will be drenched in green slime when the gutters on your house - that have not been cleaned in three years - break off and fall on your head, which shall also cause a concussion.

What? That sucks!

AND THEN the green slime shall transmit hideous parasites and blood sucking leeches unto your skin causing much rashy distress.

Oh no! Leeches?

AND THEN one of the leeches shall lodge itself deep into your nasal cavity where it shall burrow in and use your blood to fertilize the eggs it lays behind your eyeballs

Gah! I don't like this future...

AND THEN the eggs will feed off of the gunk in your eyeballs until such time as the baby leeches burst forth and feast on your brain and brainial fluids

Stop it! No more!

AND THEN a hurricane will blow your house down. AND THEN a pack of hungry bears shall come in from the woods and gobble up your mother and pets. AND THEN one of the bears shall grab a great white shark by the tail and spin it around like a lasso and flog you over the head with it really hard. AND THEN the great white shark shall bite your leg off with it's enormous teeth. The left one I believe. AND THEN the bear shall bite off the right leg. AND THEN rain shall pour forth from the heavens drenching your new suede jacket. AND THEN lightening shall strike your body, burning off all off of your hair and frying your skin, black and bubbling, which shall then burst with weeping sores...

Wait a minute...all of these things are going to happen? This sounds like bullshit.

No, it's true for I have seen it. Do you doubt me?

Um...yeah.

I am 100% accurate. I'll prove it by predicting the futures of every person who leaves a comment on this post. When they all come true ye shall be....what is the word I'm thinking of? Oh yes....PWNED! Muyhahahahahahaha!

Okay then, you're on.

What about it, bloggers? Do you dare?????

The New Hidous Vase

You asked for it - well, Muse did anyway - so here it is, the new hideous vase my mom bought to replace the one Jackie Waffles broke. Take a look.



Ta Da! How much do you love it?



Here's a closer look. Are you freaked out yet? I really want to draw on those faces with a magic marker.



It's looking at you. It sees into your soul.


Oh, Jackie Waffles. yoo hoo, c'mere boy......

Breaking News

Literally.

Jackie Waffles is in big trouble with my mom. He just broke one of her favorite ugly vases.

He was spazzing around the house, like he usually does, when he apparently banged against a wobbly little stand my mom keeps in the entryway - in order to display said ugly, blue vase - causing the pottery to topple off and shatter into a million pieces.

I was at my desk when I heard the crash and saw Jackie streak by in a panic. He went straight to the closet and is now cowering there to escape my mom's wrath.

She is mightly pissed too. You should have heard the language! No one can cuss like an angry old Southern woman.

"That GD cat! Damn him! I'll kill his butt!" she howled, shaking her fist. "You'd better run, yella fella, cause you're no friend of mine anymore!"

"He can't help it, Mom," I said. "He's just a big, dumb oaf."

"You'd better keep him out of my way," she grumbled, while sweeping up the vase shards. "I'll smack him with this broom the next time I see him!"

Too bad I never took a picture of the vase. We could have had a vote on whether it was hideous or not (I'd vote yes). Now it is too late. I didn't even get to take a picture of the pieces as my mom swept them up so quickly. But here is a picture of the now empty stand.




It looks so lonely and empty I think I will find something to put on it to make my mom happy.




What do you think? Everybody loves the down home goodness of Chicken In A Biskit don't they? The MSG makes sure of that.




How about a skull? It would be timely since Halloween is coming up. I do enjoy decorating with skulls. They give the house a nice Hell's Angels kind of ambiance.




A Bob's Big Boy Bank might provide a whimsical touch. Plus, we could make all visitors deposit a quarter before allowing them entry into Chez Prunella. Or else charge them a quarter in order to leave. That might be a better plan, actually. W00t! I'll be rolling in money soon!


Well, how about that? My mom doesn't like any of these fabulous suggestions. She's going off right now to TJ MAXX to buy another ugly vase. Hmmmpfff some people!

Oh well, here's a picture of the unrepentant one himself chilling in his favorite tiny bowl. He's getting big, huh?





What? I didn't do anything. It wasn't me, I'm innocent I tells you! Innocent!....So, do you have any food for me?"

I'm Back

Hi guys, I'm back. It took some doing, but I finally managed to escape from the clutches of those crazed spacemen. I can't tell you how awful and scary it was. They made me watch Vanilla Sky over and over again, with my eyes propped open with toothpicks while Vitamin Water was dripped onto my forehead for hours. This torture was so horrible that I actually died from it.

That's right, I was technically dead for about ten minutes.

It was so weird, one minute I was handcuffed to an e-meter screaming in agony and then suddenly -boom- I found myself drifting through the clouds, weightless and floating, feeling at peace. I realized I was dead, and I didn't mind at all. It was lovely. There was no pain, no worries, and no Tom Cruise being intense - just sweet, sweet floating. Then I felt myself touch solid ground and opened my eyes.

What I saw was a land so beautiful, there is no vocabulary to describe it. It was like something out of one of those scenic calendars. You know the ones I'm talking about? They usually have inspiring quotes under a picture of a splashing waterfall with rainbows shimmering in the sunlight. Yeah, it was like that, except there were also dinosaurs.

I wandered around for a while, admiring the views and feeling a bit like Holly in that old kid's show The LAnd of the Lost. I think I even saw Chaka and some sleestacks hanging out in a beer garden, which made me smile. Death was so much cooler than I'd ever even remotely thought possible.

Just when I thought I couldn't be anymore impressed, along came Jesus riding a Brontasaurus.




Jesus is really cute in person, and super cool as well. He took me for a ride on his brontasaurus.


I recognized him immediately because he looked just like he did in my Children's Bible, all blonde and hunky with blue, blue eyes, like a young and hippish Mel Gibson.

"Hey there, Jesus," I said, smiling extra big to make the dimple in my left cheek come out.

"My child," he stopped the dinosaur. "What are you doing here? It is not your time. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you must go back."

"Noooooo!" I cried, feeling like I'd been slapped. "Please, don't make me! I love it here."

His gentle eyes were full of sympathy. "I understand, but that is the way it works."

"Okay," I said with a heavy sigh. "But Jesus, may I ask a quick question before I go? Why are there dinosaurs here in heaven?"

"Well, you see it's because dinosaurs were an original part of the Garden of Eden which my father created four thousand years ago."

"Wow," I said, utterly dumbstruck. "So....wait... I guess that means Sarah Palin's crazy bible beliefs are correct then. Man and dinosaur did exist at the same time! Maybe I've misjudged her? Maybe....maybe....I should vote for the McCain/Palin ticket after all?"

Jesus burst out laughing. "Oh my heavenly father, are you kidding me? Not in a million years! Sarah Palin is as dumb as a box of hammers! And McCain is in the early stages of Alzheimer's. Oh no, whatever you do, don't vote for them."

He kept laughing, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes......and the next thing I knew I was falling, falling, down through time and space and landed kerplunk in my bed.

Whoa, that was trippy.

I would asume the whole thing was a dream, but just like in the movie Flatliners I managed to bring something back with me from the afterlife. It's a sleestack and it's sitting in my bathroom right now, playing with my land gator head.



I think I'll name him Karl.