May the somethin something be with blah blah… or somethin. I never saw the movies.
The call wakes me up from the bottom of a bottle and bottle slumber, a coma induced by cocktail, equal parts Nyquil and Jack Daniel’s. I grumble into the phone, creating coherent words an unspeakable chore. A voice I don’t recognize spits an urgent stream in my ear. I only make out the important details. A body. Gashed. Potato Town. I want to say I’ll be right there. I hang up and get dressed instead.
I arrive on the scene. Uniforms have already scattered the crowd, holding back a few key witnesses. Apparently there’s some kid, Peewee, may have seen the whole thing. I need to examine the body. Figure out who the poor bastard was. Get a grip on what I’m dealing with. A yellow brick road of police tape leads the way.
Shit. It’s a Russet. My job just got a lot harder. The Russets are the elite and powerful of Potato Town, bigwigs with big wallets, the charitable ball type, fundraising the easy way, just tell me when to stop writing zeros. I need to solve this case fast. It’s going to be all over the news. That means my ass if I don’t find a perp to pin this on soon. What was the dumb bastard doing down here? Doesn’t make sense that a Russet would be in this part of town, mixing it up with the bargain bin spuds.
The body’s in a bad way, chunks of skin cut straight from the face, a pool of blood coagulating around a gaping wound, serrated knife still lodged in deep. At least I’ve got the murder weapon. That’s something. Whatever sick fucker did this enjoyed himself. Took his time. This was deliberate. And brazen. Don’t normally see this type of hack job in the middle of the street. It’s more of the closed door type of affair.
I cover the body and head for the witnesses. I need to talk to the kid…
A brief synopsis for the uninitiated: May 4th is Star Wars Day because, much like this blog, fans of Star Wars enjoy puns. Wait, what pun you ask? Oh wow, you’re REALLY uninitiated, huh? I don’t have time to explain the whole series of films to you. They’re dope. Go watch them. (Yes, even the newer ones dude. Just don’t try to find logic in that shit.) And may (May) the (the) Force (4th) be (be) with (with) you (you), I guess!
What we have above is a cosplaying puppy. Also, what we have here is proof, once again, that animals are stupid. That puppy is cosplaying as an Ewok, a fictional race of teddy bears that fight with sticks and rocks against intellectually superior races of aliens armed to the teeth with technologically superior weapons like moon-sized lasers that can destroy entire planets. A lot of people hate Ewoks. I don’t. I like cute shit, yo. But no one is afraid of Ewoks. Ewoks aren’t something to aspire to. Ewoks, while cute, exist entirely for ridicule and shame.
That dog chose to be an Ewok, Siya. An Ewok! Out of all of the hundreds of options of killers, and badasses, and heroes that dog had to chose from, it chose a teddy bear. Animals are dumb. STOP BEING AFRAID OF THEM.
What do you get when you mix the fight of the century, Instagram, and creative mobs that pick apart every part of the fight? A feeding frenzy of something petty and hilarious, something funny, something true, and general bafoonery that lives breeds on social media instant reactions. Let’s scroll through some, shall we? Continue reading Top 10 Reactions To The Mayweather/Pacquiao Mega Fight