Over the past few weeks, I noticed my collection of spices had dwindled. I know I cook a lot, so it’s not improbable that I can burn through a jar of paprika pretty quickly. But it’s because I’m such an avid chef that I can keep a tight inventory of my supplies. And for some reason my supply was depleting faster than expected. I suspected someone in the warehouse might be stealing from me so I had no choice but to guard the pantry all day and all night until I caught the culprit. I packed a shotgun, shackled the door handles, and hid in the corner until this thief showed himself.

It was no surprise that IC quickly showed up to claim the spice.

“I should have known it would be you.”

“What do you mean?” he replied. As if he didn’t know. I scoffed at his ignorance. “You’re here to steal more of my delicious spices!”

“Yep. This thing is bigger than you or me. Step aside and you won’t get hurt.” That’s when IC flashed the chainsaw he been hiding behind his back.

“What are you talking about?”

He explained, “Nutmeg will get you fuuuucked UP! I’ve been selling this shit to the junior high kids and they can’t get enough of it. I may be willing to cut you in if you play this cool.”

I couldn’t stand the thought that something used to make food so delicious was being wasted like that. It was infuriating. I love food too much to let that happen.

“You bastard! How can you pervert what nature has so generously given us?”

“So I can buy the crack I’m going to sell them.”

I tried to hold back my tears as I pointed my shotgun between his eyes. “You get out of here you monster!”

“THIS CHANGES NOTHING!!!” he screamed as he scurried off.

For the rest of the night, I used my bulbous fat to barricade the pantry. IC would have to come through my dead body to get the spices. But without eating for more than an hour, I was getting famished. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to stay up all night. I prayed for Bug to walk by with a Snickers bar or something. But alas, he did not and early into the morning I passed out.

I sprung to my feet when I realized what had happened and immediately checked the doors behind me. It was unlikely IC could have moved my gelatinous mass without help so there was no reason to expect the doors to be open. But I was a nervous and hungry wreck. And that’s when I noticed the pie on the ground just in front of me.

“Could this be a trick? Maybe someone just dropped it here as they walked by? It would be a shame to let it go to waste. I at least have to know what flavor it is…” I said as I rationalized the situation. Ultimately, I desired the pie too much and gave in.

“PAAAAAAA!!! UGH! PAFFF FFFF PA FFF!!!” I coughed as the pie slid down my gullet. “BLAH!!! FFF HAAA! What is this made of?”

IC jumped out of the shadows and swung his chainsaw through the air, “Fool! I made a pie filled with cinnamon and topped it with whipped cream! Hehehe!!! You idiot. No one can eat more than a tablespoon of pure cinnamon all at once!”

He cranked up the chainsaw as I writhed around on the floor, choking to death.

“WATER!!! WATER!!!” I coughed as IC jumped over me and began shredding the wooden doors. Splinters sprinkled over me as I crawled to the nearest pipe. I heaved my flubb upon it, over and over, until it snapped and gushed onto the floor. I propped it up to funnel into my snout and sighed with relief as the cinnamon washed down my throat. By the time I had my faculties again, IC was gone, and so was the spice.

IC may have beaten me that day, but things didn’t end well for him. Eventually he moved too far in on a rival gang’s turf and they shot him six times, once in the dick. He’s currently rehabbing in Bug’s bacta tank. I visit from time to time and eat a Boston creme pie in front of him as he floats in his own waste.

Once again I ate every last available morsel in the warehouse. Even the cheese in the mousetraps. I had no choice but to venture outside and return to a restaurant. Because I haven’t been to one of those places in a while, I decided it was an occasion worth dressing up for. I needed a suit, but obviously lacked any money to buy one, so I made one out of used band-aids just like IC did for his teddy bear. It took a long time to make because it had to cover so much fat but eventually I got it lookin’ good. Bug said it would be easier to make out of duct tape but he’s always throwing knowledge around to make others feel dumb so he feels smart. Screw him. He should make a bag out of duct tape that can contain all his smug!

There was no time to paint it black though. I threw in some cool Batman ones I found but otherwise I had the only flesh-colored dinner jacket in town. I made a monocle out of an old wristwatch face and pocket watch chain, and I ‘found’ a cane from the old guy who spends 3 hours walking TO the grocery store. As for the top-hat, I just took the one Bug uses to practice magic with, and set out to Cherry Creek where I heard some of the classiest restaurants are. I picked the first one I saw: Pasquini’s. The place was rather empty though. Before I could sit down, the hostess made some complaints about my makeshift attire (some shit about health violation?). I don’t remember because I was too distracted by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Eventually, we agreed to let me eat on the patio. I ordered the Chicken Alfredo and it was pretty good. They included some fresh breadsticks and a small house salad that was heavy on iceberg lettuce. Not a big deal though because the star of the meal was the pasta.

Then it was time to pay the bill. And no matter how many times I told the waitress I was “a foreign prince and would totally reimburse her with a personal check from my government”, she insisted I had to pay her immediately. I couldn’t just run away because I’m too fat to be fast enough, so I just faked a seizure and had an ambulance get me out of there.

The ambulance sent me a bill too. I hope they accept checks from the Prince of Funkytown… but they did throw away my band-aid suit while I was in the hospital, so technically, they owe me.

Finding out about the new features of facebook.com is a fun thing.  I recently discovered this new thing called the timeline and I decided that I would make a new profile devoted to myself and all of the fun times I have…So I had to make a top picture so that everyone can see all of my glory; the best way to do that, I felt, was a boudoir picture…and a real sexy one too…so who was willing to take this photo, and then I decided I needed an expert of sexy pictures…Cora…reluctantly she agreed to if only for the money that I offered her…I knew money would get her, it wins every time… anyways she took my wonderful picture even though she kept heaving like she was planning on vomiting…probably morning sickness from the cucumber babies she is having…gross…So then I had to pick which photo was to be my ID photo so I grabbed Spherx’s drivers license and then photoshopped my picture in his place…it look okay but I think me dressed as a pirate is better…yeah…Perfect…you can check it out at this address facebook.com/ichittix …so what should I add next?…how about a fan page devoted to my Paintarrhea…

I stepped outside my room today to find a trail of urine leading down the hallway. Reluctantly, I followed it down the stairs and around the corner to find Idiot Chittix exhaustively panting and crawling on his elbows, without the help of his legs, toward the front door. He was wearing a cape and Bug’s dimensionless headshield with the letters “SS” sloppily stamped on it. That’s when I heard Bug scream, “DAMMIT IC!” and saw him charge out of his lab covering his head with his hands.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“IC stole my helmet again!”

“Yeah, but why is he wearing it with a cape, crawling on the floor, and leaving a piss trail behind him?”

“As if I should know!?” Bug scoffed.

“IT IS I! THE SILVER SLUG! I WILL CONFUSE YOU WITH MY NUDITY!” Idiot Chittix proclaimed from afar.

Obviously that didn’t make sense to either of us, so he explained that after his debacle from jumping off the roof attempting to be a flying superhero, he revised his plan and chose to be a superhero closer to the ground. As a slug, he could crawl up to his enemies and surprise them. And naturally his urine was the only way to leave a slime trail and keep with the theme.

Frustrated by this lunacy, Bug replied, “Well, if you’re not jumping off of things anymore, there’s no reason for you to need MY HELMET!”

“The Silver Slug is a fragile, wormy hero and needs to wear armor!”

“GET YOUR OWN ARMOR!”

“SKREEE!!!” Idiot Chittix replied in anger and scurried toward the door. Bug ran down the stairs and squashed IC into the floor. IC squealed and bit Bug’s hand. The two of them tussled around, slapping and biting, until Mac entered through the main door and bumped into IC just as Bug flung him at. Mac was carrying food supplies and a jar of salt broke and spilled out over IC and into his eyes and fur.

“HISSSSSSSS!!! The Silver Slug’s natural enemy!” he cringed.

“HAHA! Take that Silver Slug!” Bug laughed maniacally.

“Curse you, Sergeant Science! Owoooo!” IC wailed. Mac squatted down next to IC and started creepily licking the lost salt out of the Silver Slug’s fur.

I shrugged and turned down the hall. “I’m gonna see what Patches is up to.”

So I had a fun presidents day this year…I travelled all the way down Colfax Avenue, and I mean the whole length of it…I had no clue that it was so long…hhehe…anyways I ended up in a place called Bennett Colorado where I met a bunch of locals…they were fun but my adventure had to continue…where should I travel to next I thought…I know…lets go the other way on colfax….so I walked west bound Colfax…turns out that the other end of colfax has a theme park place called Heritage Square where they put on a dinner theatre with scary plays and fun cocktails…I had a few of the daniels variety and enjoyed the murder mystery they put on…fun times…but then the idea of the play and how they scared some guy with a ticking heart in the floor got me thinking…I need to do this to the people at the domain…but how can I pull it off without them knowing…Then it hit me…I told everyone at the domain that Abraham Lincoln was making a speech in the capital building for presidents day and that for research they should all go and film the place while I stayed to guard the house…They seemed reluctant but ended up I convinced them to go…suckers…then I found a beating heart in bugs lab that he was using to make an album with called “Beats” and put that in the floor of Cora’s room…then I hooked up speakers under the beds of everyone else…When they returned I was shocked by the lack of anyone caring…Bug just seemed to rock out, Patches kept saying he was hungry, Cora slept like a baby, Mac though he was having a heart attack and was meditating, and Quiphen did not stop doing jumping jacks…Annoyed I began to clip my finger and toes nails…I think I will use the bits and put them in everyone’s bed tomorrow night… muhuhuhuhHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

I like pranks. But sometimes they go too far, I’ll admit. For example, today, I was leaving for lunch when I noticed IC was walking back to the warehouse. I saw him approach the front door through the window and realized it was the perfect time to freak him out. Given the glare from the sun outside, there would be no way he could see me waiting for him. I positioned myself up against the metal door just as he pulled it open and “RAWR!” I jumped at him. IC sharply staggered back and, out of instinct, launched a haymaker at me, busting my snout open and spilling blood out onto the door frame. As I cursed and dripped blood, IC paced back and forth, chiding me as his adrenaline cooled off.

For the next few weeks I dealt with a sore, bandaged snout. and because I learned my lesson, I figured that would be the end of it. But no. One afternoon as I got ready to sit down and work on the computer, I noticed something strange at the desk. From way across the room I could already see the wastepaper basket and a wolf’s face poking out of the top of it, staring back at me. I inched closer, heard the faint squeal of giggling through what was now obviously a wolf Halloween mask from Patches’ collection. I stepped forward a few more paces and that’s when the mask jumped up and howled “AWROOOOOOOOOO…… OH NO!!!!” IC ripped off the mask and looked back into the basket to find a smelly brown puddle forming around his feet. He was so excited to scare me, he evacuated his bowels. It was nasty, but fortunately the excrement was neatly contained in the basket.

“That’s why it’s called a waste-basket.” I commented before I passed out from the smell.

IC drew dicks on my snout-cast while I was passed out.

So for Valentines day this year I planned to pass out cards that shared my true feelings to every one at the domain…But how would I convey my opinions without people knowing what I was truly feeling…then it hit me…poetry…So first I wrote a basic poem…

Patches:  ”Roses are red, Violets are blue, you smell like a zombie, and a little bit of poo…” 

I obviously gave that one to patches…Next I wrote Cora’s but for her’s I decided to get a little creative…I asked Mac to stand next to me and drop a soft beat box while I Slam Poeti-sized her ass…

Yo Cora:  ”YOU SMELL LIKE DOG FARTS, YOU RUIN MY LIFE,  I HATE YOUR SMELL, JUMP OFF A BRIDGE, BOOM!…” 

Next up was my poem for Quiphen, 

Quiphen:  “Roses are red, Violets are blue, Football is weird,  I think you are a pedo”

…I did not give Mac a card because he did not need one, instead I made him a Mud Pie in the shape of a heart…I know he will love it…I made this poem for Bug and he laughed hysterically but I don’t get it,

Hey Nerd:  “011000100111010101100111 001000000110100101110011 001000000110000101101110 0010000001100001011100110111001101101000011011110110110001100101 001000000110100001100101 001000000110110001101111011101100110010101110011 00100000011101000110100001100101 001000000110001101101111011011000110111101110010 0010000001100010011011000111010101100101 001000000110100001100101 00100000011100110110110101100101011011000110110001110011 0010000001101100011010010110101101100101 0010000001110110011010010110111001100101011001110110000101110010 00100000011000010110111001100100 001000000111000001101111011011110111000001110011 001000000111011101101000011011110110110001100101 0010000001100010011000010110111001100001011011100110000101110011”

…yup…and Last but not least I wrote a poem for Spherx,

Hey Asshole Tax:  “Roses are Orange, Violets are blue brandeis,  Spherx loves to eat babies, And I am pretty sure he has the AIDs Disease.”    

Yeah I feel pretty good this year, hopefully everyone liked their poetic gifts…I know I enjoyed writing them… I also planned to pass out some of my special made Brown Eye Chocolate pieces but Cora got wise to it last year so I will make those next year when they forget about it…hehehehe…suckers…

Okay so what happened today was intense for everyone, except me…for reals…I had no idea that it was a big deal…okay so here is how it happened…I was playing marbles in the alley with Turd, who by the way smells like ass…anyways we were there in the alley playing marbles and I got distracted by shiny objects in the dumpster…I walked over and began to dig around…Paper, some glass bottles, and a plastic baby…It was a strange baby covered in ketchup…if I squeezed the baby it peed out of a little hole in the crotch-al area…When the baby ran out of fluid and stopped peeing when I squeezed it I started to wonder why any body would leave the baby in the dumpster…then it dawned on me…Dumpster Abortion…yep…so instead of raising a baby in a hostile environment where it would probably be eaten by patches; I would complete what no one had the courage to do…I went inside trying to decide on a method of how I would finish off the baby…The most practical and most efficient way I could think of was to blend the baby up in the garbage disposal…Cora was there tossing her ketchup mac and cheese leftovers into the sink…I told her that Justin Bieber was going to be performing at the local mall for free and that she should go before anyone else knew about it…she spit on me and then started to excitedly pee on the floor and then quickly ran-waddled towards her room to get ready…I will never understand the spitting…any ways I was pushing the baby into the grinding disposal when the damn thing got jammed and ketchup mac and cheese bites shot out everywhere…tired and covered in KMaC I was hungry so I started to lick the leftovers off of my body…I turned around to see the whole domain horrified at the site of a pair of baby legs sticking out of the sink wiggling from the churning disposal and me eating…now I understand why they just threw it away in the trash…

I entered the kitchen to ask Mac about what he’d made us for dinner tonight and without a word, he went to the freezer, pulled out what looked like a mangled beaver and slammed it down on the counter. “It’s Groundhog Day, mothafuckah!” he replied and I stared at the frozen groundhog carcass for a second before inquiring, “Weird question… where did you find a dead groundhog?” And that’s when Mac conveyed the backstory:

While looking up famous celebrity birthdays on the same day as his own, IC stumbled onto some articles about Groundhog Day and how Puxatawney Phil was able to predict the future of the weather. Bug told IC that such a thing is just a superstitious tradition and shouldn’t be taken seriously. So to prove Bug wrong, while always unsuccessful but widly entertaining to try, IC vowed to bring the precognitive groundhog back to the warehouse so they could exploit it’s future-telling powers. IC and Mac hot-wired a Jeep  and drove it to Puxatawney, Pennsylvania to catch the little fella as soon as he emerged from hibernation. They assumed they had to grab him before he made his winter prediction just in case his magic powers we’re a one-and-done deal. So as the townsfolk gathered around Phil’s home, IC and Mac got into position to snatch Phil and make their break for it. Of course it wasn’t enough to just pick up Phil and run away. No. IC and Mac tied a chain to the Jeep’s wench and welded a bear trap to the chain. As soon as Phil poked his head out of his tree-stump, IC charged through the crowd, snapped the trap over Phil’s face and Mac gunned the Jeep’s accelerator. They escaped, dragging Phil’s corpse behind them as the townsfolk looked on in horror.

It wasn’t until they arrived back at the warehouse that they realized the plan was no-good. Phil was obviously very dead and unable to make any kind of predictions at all. “I just figured Mac was too fat and slow to carry him without getting caught so this seemed like a good idea.” IC shrugged. Not one to waste tenderized meat, Mac stored Phil in the freezer. Speechless, I blinked a few times and tried to process the ramifications of what I’d just heard. Then I stopped trying to process and just accepted what was. “Well… just don’t over-cook him Mac.”

I guess that explains where they’ve been all week.