CEILING WALL FANS FROM BELOW
In the land of goodmeatballstewpeople there was a ceiling fan that lived on the wall. All the other ceiling fans made fun of him because he lived on the nice smelling wall of pig. This wall smelled so nice, the fans wanted to eat it. But the wall ceiling fan kept chuggin' away and the other fans were enable to migrate into the left room and have meat eating ceremony with the nice smelling wall of pig. So one day the other sport-orientated fans decided to play a game of apple reading. This is a pointless, useless game that no one but the red eared ceiling fans that don't live on the walls play. So they climbed off of the ceiling with the blades spinnin' away and died. The game was never played. So the ceiling wall fan kept on free loading on the nice smelling wall of pig, and the other fans kept on plotting to kill the wall and eat the fan, or the other way away around if you would like it better if that happened, but it wouldn't ever happen so I don't know why you would like something that will never happen, like green day being real punk rockers, or even slightly cool.
Then the ceiling wall fan gave birth to another little wall fan but it died.
Then it had another kid and it died.
Then it had another small fan and it died.
Another born, another dead.
One more kid, one more less life alive.
Then the ceiling wall fan realized he had to bolt the kid to the wall in order for it to stay alive.
Then it tried to have another kid and all of his ovaries were dried up and blowin' in the wind so he couldn't have anymore kids. He had figured out the meaning of life for no particular reason but to bolt kids he couldn't have to the nice smelling wall of pig.
Then the evil ceiling fans decided to go play eat the grass that grows in the bowl of ketchup. They never found the grass and were killed by the knights that say nee!
So with the evil ceiling fans dead the ceiling wall fan decided to move to the ceiling and start a tomato garden instead of eating the beets. But one day when he was homogenizing the tomato stem one of the dead fans appeared in the doorway to the ceiling fan room.
"Are you not dead or supposed to be?" inquired the ceiling wall fan.
"Yes I am dead! But I am dead and still dead and not alive!"
"So how are you talking to me?"
"I am not dead,"
"How are you talking to me if you are dead and not dead?"
"I said I am not dead and the goose flies north by north west."
"Oh."
"I will now eat the nice smelling wall of pig."
"No."
"Okay."
"Leave now."
"All right, good day."
The ceiling wall fan never was bothered by the ceiling fans again. Now he was terrorized by a 50 foot penguin. It tried for days on end to peck out his eyes and then it realized it couldn't do that and that the ceiling wall fan didn't have eyes and that his once beautiful beak was now just a bloody carrot stump growing from the concrete wall behind him. How the penguin got into the room of fans was never realized to the ceiling wall fan. He thought for days about how the 50 foot penguin got into a room with a 200 foot ceiling fan hanging from a 300 foot ceiling. This thinking was pointless but useful. It made the ceiling wall fan realize things aren't always as they are in appearance, and that sometimes you had to rip the enemy open and eat his guts to see what it is all about.
One day a young boy moved into the room that contains the nice smelling wall of pig. He was all alone. He hadn't any body with him to talk to or eat so the ceiling wall fan decided to talk to him and become friends. The ceiling wall fan didn't know how to talk, but the boy didn't know that, so the ceiling wall fan had him fooled. The conversations they had would amaze you, especially because the ceiling wall fan was just pretending to talk and really couldn't talk, but the boy didn't know that so the ceiling wall fan had him fooled and could carry on meaningful conversations with somebody finally for once, he had never been able to do this before because he really couldn't talk, but the boy didn't know this so the ceiling wall fan had him fooled and could talk to him. Their conversations were very depthful and intimate, they probably talked this way because they were the only people in the room that contains the nice smelling wall of pig, no one else was around for miles even though I was sitting in the corner listing for years to these conversations. I remember one of the conversations they had because I tape recorded it and have listened to it every day of my life since then because I am a glass of orange juice and this tape keeps away the people that want to drink me and pour me out, my recorder is the only thing the nice people in the white coats let me have in my nice white, round, padded room. But enough about me, lets look at the conversation that keeps away the evil people that want to drink me.
"Hello hello hello hello hello hello" the ceiling wall fan pretended to say.
"Are you talking to me nice Mr. Ceiling Fan?" said the boy (his name is Haverygorbgerbach Meitsi)
"DON'T EVER CALL ME A CEILING FAN!!!!"
"Isn't that what you are, you have blades and you spin and you live on the ceiling and you have a tomato garden." the young boy was confused.
"I am a ceiling wall fan. The plain old ceiling fans are evil things, they tried to kill me and eat the nice smelling wall of pig."
"What is the nice smelling wall of pig?" the young boy was confused again.
"Do you look over there and see that wall?"
"Not really but I guess I could pretend I do for the sake of conversation."
"Well the evil ceiling fans tried to have evilistic ceremony with the nice smelling wall of pig, and I say to them 3 or 8 times 'If you do that I'ss castrate you with largest bass guitar string and feed your recently dismembered body parts to you through a straw and laugh at you and make you think of turgent patch monkey, (Michelle), naked.' They never listened to me so they had to leave because I got the blue mana, and they left to go play stupid prep games and died. But before they died they tried to kill me and they tried to do this just because I was slightly different and didn't like to play dumb sport games like the eat the 65 year old mayonnaise from your best fan friend's armpit. But I had the last chuckle cause them is dead."
"Well Mr. Ceiling Wall Fan that is a horrible sad and even slightly marketable story and if I was you I wouldn't be me." said the boy whose name I can't remember how to spell.
And that is the end of the tape recorded conversation that I always listen to and which causes me to have nice, nice dreams. But the thing I didn't tell you is that even though I was sitting over in the corner I was that boy at the same time and I was 2 people at once. It was the fan that caused me to become insane and have to live in this place, but I's is gettin out soon and I's will track down that evil fan and unscrew him and put him in a warm-up suit and cause him to freeze to death in the sunlight.
CHAPTER 9
I's Is Free or Die You Evil Desk, Die!
It has been 21476 years since I last was able to share my insane rambling with all of you nice people out there in moron land so we have some catching up to do. As you know I's is free and I's is huntin down that fan to make him a tasty freeze. I's is right now in San Francisco and scared to death of bending over, though it is sort of a cheap thrill, but I feel so dirty afterward. Anyway I have been searching all the city parks to find a ceiling wall fan, and so far I have had no luck, and to top that I haven't found the fan yet either! But the search goes on.
Journal loog 8d65: I'ves beensd drinkins a littled bits toos muchisesis tadoy. I's tries to haveishish a conversationthf wiff a man in the icec creamsh store, thish ish waht happenededededshish.
"Scuse mes sirs I's was wondrins if you could deirectedish me toos the fansn place." I'sh said in fluentsh drunkeneishish.
"Sir, I haven't the slightest idea what your trying to mumble, but you are obviously too drunk to care." said he.
"Thanksh yous I's is gots to gos looks there right tomorrows." And the rest of that day is a blur.
I decided to get my priorities straight and look high and low for that blasterdly ceiling wall fon, I mean fan. I looked everywhere and was still not getting lucky (and that is rare in San Francisco!), but never the less I kept looking. After another little while I was still out of luck but I decided to keep looking and was still not able to find the fan and still was out of luck and couldn't find the fan and was out of luck and was having trouble. Then I looked into an old rundown building that could have been a drug warehouse or a 5 star motel, it is hard to tell these days. I walked into the room and it was like an instant acid flashback but I had never done acid so it couldn't have been that, but it could have been because my parents were heavy on the acid back in the 60's and my mom did acid quite alot while I was in utero so I tripped out on acid alot while I was less than born so in a strange way I have done acid but I haven't really done acid but just sort of I have done acid. So I'm standing there contemplating whether or not I have done acid when from the corner I heard a little voice. Was it could it be I didn't think so at first but then as it occured to me that I really wasn't having an acid flashback that I realized that the voice I was hearing was that of that pathetic little ceiling fan that made me spend 7098 years in that retched little insane asylum. My heart filled with rage, I could have ripped a hole in my head if I didn’t have that blasted metal plate in it, I guess it was a good thing that those evil little men in the white suits put it there. The following scene happened as follows.
(all of what is below was said in the bad American overdubbing voice you hear in the chinese ninja movies)
"Hey you, with the fan blades."
"Are you talking to me, you puny little man?"
"Yes you the small dumb ceiling wall fan. I have come to destroy you again and for all",(it was at this time that I saw him again for the first time, this is also where I began to think this whole little adventure was a huge mistake. I mean come on, this fan was way bigger than I remembered him being, I was scared, very scared.)
"You think so, you think you can even begin to imagine coming close to hurting me you lifeless form of, wait a minute, you're that kid who used to sit and talk to me in the room with the nice smelling wall of pig in it aren't you?"
"Yes 'tis I come to destroy you."
"But why? We had such meaningful conversations together, the intimacy we had for each other was something that I have never been able to achieve with anyone else."
"You want to know why? You caused me to spend 55,697,379 years in an insane asylum."
"But earlier in the story you said you were in there for 7,098 years and now you say it was some big long number years. Make up your mind"
"The number isn't important, it's the fact you sent me there and caused me to think I was a glass of orange juice."
"I didn't do that, it was all the acid you took."
"I have never done acid, my parents yes, me no."
"You don't remember, you used to sit in that room and take 70 or 80 tabs at a time. The day you left you were so tweaked out I'm surprised you're still alive."
"I think I'm starting to remember, where did I say I was going?"
"You were saying something about going to shovel wood at the Chrysler Building in New York so that the little penguins could go to the Led Zeppelin concert in the spring. I tried to stop you but you were on one of your power trips and couldn't be stopped, so I figured that I wouldn't stand in your way, considering the fact you had done the exact same thing 36 or so times already that day."
"How long was I gone each time?"
"Around 13 hours each time."
"All in one day?"
"Yep."
"That would be like 468 hours, which would end being 19 and a half days."
"What in the name of deli sandwiches are you talking about?"
"13 times 36 is 468 o.k., and then you divide 468 by 24, because days are 24 hours long and you end up with 19.5."
"Luke I am your father."
"What!?"
"Uh, sorry wrong thingy deal. What I meant to say is that you don't even have the slightest idea who hezuess is, do you. Days last around 659 hours."
"What, where am I?"
"You are in a void that looks the same as earth but is very much not the same."
"Is that why I couldn't get lucky in San Francisco?"
"You mean San No-gays-or-lesbians-here-thank-you-Francisco?"
"Is that what it is called?"
"Yes."
"Ah, yes so this is why I was having difficulty trying to score downtown. In my San Francisco to get some dirty excitement all you have to do is bend over."
"That is so sick and wrong, we should set out on a quest together to change that."
"Are you crazy? Those people have rights you know."
"Oh yeah I guess that seems logical."
"So anyway since it was all my fault I spent all that time in the loony bin I guess I can’t lick your ear and nibble your head to shreds, can I?"
"No."
And that was the end of that adventure. I didn’t kill the fan, exciting huh? But that is not what I came here to tell you about, I came here to talk about the orangutans that fly with their but cheeks and talk out of their belly buttons. This is a completely different story from the one I was telling just three moments ago but I think you need to know it.
Chapter 4
Butt Cheek Fighters or New York New York
After the 6th world war I was walking through New York when a huge monkey flew out of the sky using it’s butt for wings. Then I heard a voice from it’s belly button, I was slightly frightened, yet also amused. I exploded into laughter and flames. Spontaneous combustion.
That was a fun little story. I told you it was important, I think it should win a nobel peace prize don’t you? Anyway I really want to talk about the deranged ramblings of a good friend of mine named Pinkie the Wonder Turk. Pinkie is a strange fellow as you all are about to find out.
Chapter 6
Pinkie Does Dallas or "Boy, That Wonder Turk Has Endurance!"
This little mother creature was washing clothes one day when a slinky rolled down the stairs. This alarmed the little mother creature and basically sent him into an all out rage.
"What is the meaning of this ungodly beast rolling down my stairs?" the little mother creature screamed. At that same moment Pinkie the Wonder Turk sprang from the landing armed real well.
"What in the name of God ate you for lunch?" Pinkie yelled with ecstatic joy.
"Oh my lord! You’re that Wonder Turk, are you not? I knew this would happen."
"That is what you get for doing what you did, you evil mother creature. Buying miracle whip instead of Best Foods Real Mayonnaise, I mean, jeeze, miracle whip doesn’t even deserve capitalization, and you bought it and forced the little children beavers to eat it. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I am, you have no idea how badly I feel. For the last week I have almost wished I was dead."
"You are lying, and just for that your made-up wish will be coming true."
"Pinkie no! I didn’t mean to say that, wait I didn’t even say that. I said almost dead you fool!"
"All right, you got me there. So now I get to cut off your eyelids and glue naked pictures of Mrs. Knutson to your forehead. Haaaaaaaaaa" Pinkie squealed with delight.
"For the love of cheese, nook!."
"For the love of cheese, nook!." Pinkie said so happily. "Those were the same words that prompted me to go on my lifelong search for the mythical, magical ceiling wall fan. That fan is rumored to have such good carrots for sale that it is funny."
"Tell me more of this father-like creature" the mother-like creature proclaimed.
"No. Here are your pictures put them in you eyes."
"Daddy do I have to."
"Damnit Beaver if you don’t learn to ride that bike I will beat you like you never been beat before."
"But Dad, Wally can’t fly. Why do I have to learn to butter the toast."
"God damnit Beaver, Wally is a worthless tire when it comes to engine work. So listen here you little prick. If you don’t drink that tomato juice I will rip your brain out through that raw beet you call a joystick."
"No Dad."
"O.K. Beaver, if you say so, the sky is nonexistent."
After this impromptu rendition of the Leave it to Beaver that the American public never got to see Pinkie proceeded to walk throughout Dallas looking for a goat. We join him as he starts his trek through the wildly inhabited area of the city known as Whore Central.
"Hey ho, I need to ho. Hey ho, I need a ho. Hey ho, boy do I need a whore so have sex with on the floor. Hey ho, gimme a blow." Pinkie sang with such enthusiasm. (what he doesn’t know is that, even though in his native planet this is a traditional goat catching song, here on earth he’s going to end up spending about $8,000 on cheap whores because of that catchy little jingle).
Suddenly for a reason not apparent to Pinkie a large group of scantly clad women were gathering around him. They began to get closer and start to ‘talk business’ so to speak. At this point Pinkie became very excited. He had never seen goats that looked like this before. He got a strange feeling in his toes (alien sex organs) and an odd fluid began to shoot from every pore in his body covering the city of Dallas in a white, soon to be sticky, and generally nasty liquid.
That was the story Pinkie does Dallas. If you can’t see why I think that he ‘did’ Dallas you should be castrated with a hot poker.
Well I am beginning to run out of stories to tell so if anyone in the audience has a suggestion let me know. Oh really, should I tell that one, well all right here goes..
About 4 years ago a man went outside to go on a journey. He was walking through his back yard when a large, very hard piece of French bread hit him on the head and made him almost dead because the French bread was made of lead by a man named Fred who at one time said "Heather had sex with Sped," and the man who was hit on the head was almost dead when he remembered his dog was not fed and he had not made his bed. So the man who’s head was red and read ended up dead in bed with Sped and Fred. Fred felt very bad about his crime of throwing hard-ass French bread from the window of a flying supermarket so he decided to find out what the man’s journey was and complete it. He did not know how exactly he was going to do this, simply because of the fact that the man was dead, so he decided to go talk to the man that got hit with the bread on the head.
"Excuse me mister dead guy." Fred said
"Go away, I’m dead." Dead said
"What was the journey you were on."
"Fuck you."
"Thank you so much!" Fred said. "I will go complete that journey right now."
So Fred returned to the flying supermarket which also doubled as a large store with wings and proceeded to drink himself into a silly frenzy and jump out of an airplane.
At this time I am beginning to feel that my stories are losing the humor they once possessed. I am going to retire the effort I have spent writing this for an indefinite amount of time. Please feel free to distribute this work of art to anyone. Remember, this is only the shareware version of my masterpiece "Ceiling Wall Fans From Below." If you want to read the full unedited and complete version you will either need to beg or somehow inspire me, for I have a case of humorous writers block. Thank you for your time, there is free orange juice and cookies at the door on your way out.
©1996 looneytic¿¡ inc.