Menacing Mission: Week 4

So I arrive safely in the state of Maine with nothing but $5 and the "will" to find Calzone.
Not that you really need a will to find Calzone... rather you should HAVE a will made before you DO find Calzone.

The flight was a little bumpy due to turbulence, but was still quite a bit more comfortable than the last few weeks of Truckin' road trips with psycho long-haulers that I'd had. I was able to sleep without one eye open and duct tape on the fly of my jeans. Though I still smelt a bit odd from pissing myself and the rotting Calzone in my carry-on.

I hailed a quick taxi and brushed up on my bastard punjabian speaking skills, hoping he knew where to find "Mr. Calzones" house... It was clear after an hour of driving that we were nowhere near any convenient destination so I grabbed the (still) leaking and volatile Calzone out of my backpack and shoved it over the seat near his face.

I could see my attempts at "visual communications" were not appreciated as he spat at me throughout his foreign profanities and dropped me at Perry's Nuthouse in Greenville.

But ooooo Perry's Nuthouse was indeed a gem and I was not too upset to be stranded in such a wonderful assortment of taxidermied animals and the "Man Killer Clam" exhibit.

I meandered through the mess in awe at the intricate way each item in particular was preserved. I did happen to pet a few that I was particularly fond of...

And stuffed the, well, stuffed squirrel in my purse in case I happened to bump into Bostick on my journeys. I also grabbed a yak for Carl... and dragged it out on a leash as if to trick the owner "Perry"... who was not tricked, but instead treated at my methods of kleptomania.

Perry himself seemed an okay guy. We sipped a Gin and Sprite as we discussed the "101 ways to stuff your fist up the asshole of roadkill"... Charming conversationalist that Perry, almost had me convinced that he could fist enough cotton up my ass to qualify me as a Cabbage Patch Doll.

I, of course, was more interested in the topic of stuffing anything up somebody elses ass....Which took us to Road kill Cafe after his museum closed for a nice candlelit dinner over O-rings and Chicken Knuckles.

I got drunk off of Possums blood while watching him snort the ashes of dead elk between the main course and dessert... Dude did at least 7 lines and bogarted it all. Ass.

We were good for a quick round of Karaoke before we jolted into the night singing Frank Sinatra ditties bound for Scarborough where Perry mentioned he knew Calzone and would be more than happy to take me to him for a deal.

"Oh yeah, I've been stuffing Calzone for years... HUGE sphincter that one, and never too tight. In payment for my delivery services I'll gladly take your fingernails."

"Excuse me? Did you say you wanted my fingernails?"
"Yes, your fingernails. I will take you to Calzone for the price of your fingernails."
"... Well how do you suppose I give you those Perry? I'm sort of attached to them at this point."
"Calzone has ways of removing them. Is it a deal? I want to put them in my museum next to Marilyns implants."

I thought long and hard over how important my fingernails would be to me in the future, and if the importance of finding Johnny Menace dictated a sacrifice such as this...

"How about just a thumb?"
"No, the full set."
"Shit, can I keep my toe nails?"
"Yes."
"Well alright then, I'm sold... Let's go to Scarborough."

We arrived in Scarborough in about 2 hours... It was dawn and the sunrise was spectacular. Of course I was focused on how to wiggle out of my bloody fingernail sacrifice, but found myself in awe of the pinks and golds of the sunrise as they crested from the Atlantic Ocean.

Perry slammed on the brakes abruptly outside of a candy shop called "Len Libby's Candies". His face showed a rambunctious excitement, so I figured this is where Calzone lived and Perry was one step closer to getting my digit clicks. As we approached the front door of the shop I noticed it was dark still and not open for business.

"Perry, what are we doing here? Is this where Calzone lives?"
"No ma'am, this is where we find cinnamon bears..."
"Cinnamon bears? We need cinnamon bears before we can see Calzone?
"Nope. I just like me some cinnamon bears."

To make a long story short we busted into Len Libbys for a 5 gallon barrel of cinnamon bears (for Perry), and 17 Mongo size chocolate bars (for me). But this mission did not go flawlessly, noooo... It went badly... and all at the cost of a fucking Moose named Len.

Made completely out of chocolate.
Fuck the bars. I'm taking a horn, or maybe two...
Hmm... is there a penis on this thing made of chocolate?
Holy fuck there is.
Moose horns and penis... made of chocolate. I'm owning this.

Perry, who was not as amazed at this discovery as I was, began to get restless at the longevity of the break-in plan. His way of rushing me to finish with my Moose d'cotuer was to come at me with a ice pick made of lemon drops and a 10 ft licorice rope with the intention of tying me to the front counter and having me take the case for the robbery.

In my defense, I beat Perry in the head with my chocolate moose penis until he was deemed unconscious and stuck a jumbo lollipop up his ass... I think I killed him, but no matter... I could now keep my fingernails.

Around 10:am I finally arrived at Calzone's pad. Which to me looked a little bit eclectic... but what do you expect from a Dragon Puppet that plays pool, screws hookers for hobby and jacks peoples 8-balls for fun? We rang the door bell, which may I add rang to the tune of "Girl from Impanema."

Calzone answered in his velvet smoking jacket clutching a cigar and a copy of "Eat Ass" magazine:
"Yo Everything Nice, what's crackin' pin cushion?"

I smiled with a warm welcome and hugged that puppet like I was his bitch "Calzone, I traveled all this way because I was left a clue that perhaps I could find Johnny Menace here..."

I opened my back pack, shoved the chocolate constructed moose penis to the side and removed the smelly Calzone to show... Calzone.

"Whoo Whoo hooch, you don't need to show me nothin' like that stank. I hadn't peeped that dilly in the longest. Actually, since I cleaned the Paddy Wagon pad of it's dope that night back in... shit when was that?" Calzone thought for a moment and coughed up a hairball. "Oh thas right, back in like September."

"So no sign of Johnny Menace here?" I pouted a bit. Seeing that my assessment of Johnny's note was nothing more than a prank.

"Naw.. wait.." Calzone pendered "You mean you didn't come here to fuck me?"

"No.. how the hell do I fuck a puppet? You have no dick Calzone, you do know that... right?"

"Well fuck that noise slut. I'm outie." And with that... Calzone slammed the door in my face and I was left to sit on the front steps with my hand in my chin.

I sat there for a good hour until the door flung open and Calzone pitched a jizz balloon at the back of my head. "Sayin' I aint got no dick dilly?" He screamed "Well take that jizzim shizzim!"

After rubbing the back of my head and tasting the semen that sprayed from the breaking balloon, it was determined that it was actually horse semen, not his own... and I let him know that while I took a shit on his front porch and smeared the rotting Calzone on the hood of his Plymouth Valiant.

On my way out of the yard I saw something written in chalk on the sidewalk. I could barely make it out, but the handwriting seemed familiar.... It read "999 is black death, but 666 is the sign."

So that's how it works then, huh Johnny... I have to see the Devil next, is that it?
Is it that now you and White Devil have both mysteriously disappeared and it is NOT coincidence?
And if I go to White Devil I will somehow find you?
And how the fuck did Calzone play into this?
Was it necessary to be hit in the head with a water balloon of cum before the next step?

Perhaps I should not wash my hair then.. maybe if I step under black light a secret message will appear in it on where to go next?
And maybe it will be written in pagan so only White Devil can interpret it?

Fuck.
I gnawed on one of my chocolate moose horns and withdrew the cash I'd robbed from Len Libby's Candy store as I made my way back to the airport to catch a flight to Maryland and find the mysterious (and often lost) White Devil.

****

The flight from Maine to Maryland was not long, and I found the directions to White Devils domain to be quite clear though the phone conversation with him was anything but. God love white devil.

I appreciated the Devil taking me under his wing for a short time while I searched for Menace around Maryland, and Devil appreciated somebody being there for the chicken skinning and tribal goat legging preparations for the cult seminar and chastity sacrifice this weekend.

It was only a walk to his house from the airport, and one that took me by way of Edgar Allen Poe's Grave site... I stopped for a moment and sucked on the remnants of my moose horn. Poe will always hit a string with me... a deep sentimental one.

I remember faintly when Menace would get upset with me when I would ask for him to read Poe to me before bed time. He would punish me by dunking my head in the shark tank after sticking Reeces Pieces in my nostrils and make me do penance for every time Poe mentions the Raven in text. Then he would spank me with a coat hanger made of barb wire.

Those were good times. I still have the scar on my ear.

The screeching of tires stopped this tender moment in my memory.
As I turned my head to witness the dark figure climbing from the motorcycle, the outline of his shadow was daunting and a bit intimidating... The helmet came off to reveal a smile and the tattoo on his arm was eerily familiar... It was the Devil, and it was time to begin the hard search for the Menace - now.

I ran up to meet him on the street corner and normal conversation "devil-style" ensued:

"Manbutter! So good to see you up close and in person! Thank you for allowing me to stay here for a few days to search for Johnny."
"Ahh, sweet Em, yes, we will trip the light and dive into the dark to find his soul... and then we will eat it and bathe in his afterbirth."
"Sounds like a plan..."
"Sounds like lunch."
"Right, well I am excited to begin our trek around the state... I'm sure if we find Menace he will appreciate it as well.."
"Durr, well he found me when I was lost. And then again."
"So where do we start?" I pulled the chocolate moose penis from my pack "Any ideas on where to look?"
"We will start at the beginning and end at death."

So what does that mean?
Well, it means to travel directly to Annapolis and break into the Nuclear Science building to rub Hyman Rickover's nose for good luck. After being kicked out by security I reported to the Devil that in fact I did make contact with the nose and it was only a matter of time before luck would be upon us.

"Oh" the devil moped "It's a nose... It's not a hymen then? It's a nose..."
"I'm sorry you are disappointed, I have let you down. Well, I could offer you my hymen.. but.."
"Hahaha... I am afraid your hymen is long gone Emma my sweet..."
"No, actually it's here in this masonry jar I keep in my backpack..."

"Ah durr" the devil looked a bit stunned as I pulled the jar from my bag "We must now go to the Urology Museum in Baltimore. Your hymen has stimulated my imagination for our search. I wonder if the Menace is there... either there, or the Great Blacks in Wax... That will be a sure thing. We will then have hot dogs and shower together in pig urine..."

"Well alright then, let's get this show on the road.. oh here, take my hymen first."

And with that we began our drive to Baltimore, where the search got silly... and a bit messy thanks to a broken jar, and a bag of beef jerky.. and of course, the hallmark channel.

Stay tuned....

Menacing Mission: Week 3

Fuck Texas. That's all I have to say.

Simply because it's snowing in Texas too.

Yep, it's just my fucking luck that my good friend the truck driver (mentioned in the last post) threw me out at the Fort Hood security check-stop before high-tailing it off into the night and leaving me for dead.

I pissed myself again, not so much for warmth but this time for entertainment value.

So I guess there was no making it to Crystal City, TX after all... I felt heartbroken... Especially after I had purchased that Olive Oil costume back in Burleson and been rehearsing "He Needs Me" for the past three days....

We won't focus on Why I was kicked out.

I mean, I figure maybe it had something to do with the stunt I pulled back at the Toilet Seat Museum in San Antonio (even though I promised never to do it again).

Or, maybe it was my navigational short comings. I mean I had NO idea the map was upside down and as far as I knew the city names were in spanish.... so we were driving South.. sure, by my standards... which was actually North.... For about 14 hours.

Anyway, here I was stranded at Fort Hood contemplating joining the Army.
After much thought I settled on taking the more "conservative" route.... Yes, slutting myself back on the interstate for another truck ride East... Only this time my trucker companion had issues, clearly:

"Wher ya headin?"
"East, you?"
"East to Louisiana, yep. Climb in."

Now I don't care to elaborate..... but what I will mention was the cous-cous on the propane tank in the back of the truck cab and the carvings in the dashboard.

"you retarded er su'tin?"
"Not as far as you know, why?"
"It looks like you pissed yer pants... only retards do that ther."
"Ahh. So do freezing survivalists."
"Ya but, don't it freeze to ya?"
"Eventually, but it's a slow process... like reading is to you.. I'm sure."

Over time the new truck driver and I formed a bond - borderline Hallmark material I assure you. Nothing like chewing Skoal and swapping sociopathic tendencies to bring a pair of strangers closer together.

We arrived in Angola, LA a little quicker than either of us planned, thanks to my recipe for sleepy potatoes and my urgent lead foot. Once there, my confused truck driver friend convinced me into stopping long enough to check out a couple hours of "Convict Poker," which seemed silly to me but completely entertaining.

What is "Convict Poker" you ask? Well, it's when four jailbirds sit around a card table playing a hand while a bull charges and attempts to gore them.

That's right. Gore them. Ha. Poker face. Ha. Get it? Fuck.

The next two days we covered the bulk of the good state and I was given the boot and $200 to catch a bus out of Sabine Parish and head North into Arkansas.

Which can I just say is home to one (of many) double decker outhouses.

Yep. It's a charming little side stop where apparently the terms "so-and-so shit on me" or the proverbial "Are you shitting me?" and "Don't be a shit head" originated.

Interesting yes, distracting.. uh-huh. But as I got back on the bus to head into Kentucky I realized that it had been over a month and still no Menace sightings (except for the grilled cheese)... still no clues... still no hints.

Perhaps I had lost the trail. Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps... he's trying to do that rubicks cube thing with a blindfold on.. or for chrissakes playing Sudoku.... with Taylor Hayes.

Well fuck. He could be gone forever then.

So I paid a little more attention in Kentucky which (again) I figured was a "sure thing" type of place to find Johnny....

I mean, KY? Yes, and in my memory I can hear him say "EN that's pig lard."

Yeah so I sped to check things off of my KY Task List.

1. I climbed in the largest Bourbon barrel in the world (Bardstown, KY). Not there.

2. Stared deeply into the Mysterious face in the window in Lexington... Not him.

3. Walked into Colonel Sanders Cafe and called all the waitresses chicken. He wasn't there.

4. Looked in the dark corners of the Hairball and Animal Freak museum in Covington. Nope.

5. Baasked in the sunshine at the Goat Church in Dundee. Almost thought for a minute there... but, no. I did get a little horny just hanging around though.

6. Walked aimlessly around Big Beaver Lick and seemed to lose direction at Big Bone Lick State Park. Johnny still no where to be found. But I'm still horny.

7. Asked the Bourbon Fudge Monks to pray for my direction and my libido.

10. Stopped for a game of Mini Golf at Golgotha Bible & Golf. Snapped a picture of the nice lady that drove me to Kaelin's (Home of the Cheeseburger) - Where something unexpected happened.

I'm sitting at the bar portion of the Diner when the guy sitting next to me mentions something about church on Sunday and believing in the Lords word... When I say:

"Listen dude, if you have a problem with my black face and my I hate jesus t-shirt why don't you just come out and say it?"
When the waitress approaches me and asks "Say honey, what did one snow man say to the other?"
I replied "Smells like carrots?"

Her eyes grew big and she winked at me... she then proceeded to pull a small cardboard box out from under the counter and placed it in front of me. Apprehensively I pulled the twine string apart and began to open it slowly... I noticed a pungent odor emitting from the box that only grew stronger as I pulled the small post card from the top of what was inside. It read:

"EN.
I was always fond of that shirt."

Placing the card to the side and looking cautiously around the diner, I lifted the smelly seeping item out of the box, placed it on the counter and began to peel away the tissue paper that surrounded it.

The asshat sitting next to me looked on in disgust at my crooked grin, and I continued to unfold.

Within moments, the item was in my sight and it all became quite clear what my next move should be. My bar neighbor became disturbed and chortled as he threw up a little in his mouth:

"What in sam hell is THAT?"
"Well... Sir... I'd say that... Is a Calzone."

I slid the box to my neighbor, stuffed the post card in my pants, robbed the register for about $300 and taxi'd to the airport for a trip North East... way North East.... into Maine.

Stay tuned.....

Menacing Mission: Week 2

Alright so after my short stop in Oklahoma I continued to head south into Texas with a band of circus midgets who specialize in human juxta-contortion... It was a bizarre trip to say the least and I admit that after the first 24 hours I grew tired of their querky ideas of entertainment... such as their spectacular "reach-around pyramid" or "the change maker."

Somewhere around North Texas/Southern Oklahoma I fell out of the truck. Despondant and shivering I bucked up and thumb-hitched along the ice-infested interstate... using only my own piss and shit to stay warm. I was thankful for my bodily fluids, and that I had not shaved my legs (or anything else for that matter) in about a month...

I honestly believe I would not have survived the cold had it not been for the abundance of body hair.

moving on. Texas is a huge state, which is probably why it's taken me a week and a half to search through it. I thought for certain this place was the key to finding Johnny... It's just a matter of which prison to hit first?

In between congecal visits and conning meals I found a truck driver who was heading south to Crystal City, TX and wondered if I'd like to go along.

"What ya travelin' fer sweet stuff."
"I'm searching for my friend... Johnny Menace."
The driver looked startled "Johnny Menace you don't say..."
"You know Johnny? Have you seen him lately?"
"Naw hun, but I've herd of him. He's sorta a legend to us truckers."

He evaded my prying but it was finally surfaced that he had spotted someone he thought was Menace at a truckstop in Paris, TX when his grilled cheese went missing and all was left was a note from "JM" that read "I needed to stick my cock in this."

To make a long story short we stayed the course for 4 days and as we went he'd stop for me at the best landmarks to look for someone like Johnny at... First one being Cadillac Ranch.

Legend apparently had it that Menace hides away in the sixth cadillac (in the chain) sipping Patron and writing pornographic Dr. Suess.... "Nawbady ever bothers the little bugger, reckon he just wants ter sit."

Well I climbed in and out of that Cadillac... took DNA Samples and then decided Austin was the next best place to focus on. Well atleast I tried to stay focused on my mission..... but found myself strangely distracted at two very enlightening "hot spots."

The first being in Waxahatchie, TX at the Ellis County courthouses Unrequited Love Carvings... The man outside was passing out little baggies of 'x' and urging you to enjoy the walk around the courthouse following the progression of phallicy that imbeds itself into the courthouse walls. I paid a group of schoolkids to go steal the 'x' baggies and stocked my pockets with enough blue pills to get me through the Mid-western states.
Then I took the tour 15 times.

Second distraction? Oooo... that was "Smut Putt" mini-golf. Can't imagine why? The flyer clearly stated nudity.... and shiny things.... had to go...

"An oustanding amalgamation of surrealism with a hillbilly twist, or what owner Scott Stevens calls "Smut Putt". A giant cactus garden decorated with crutches, mannequin and doll heads on sticks, sculpture, toys large and small, and lots of cactus. Bottle trees and a giant papershell pecan tree loaded with baby dolls and spinning CDs that produce a beautiful mirror ball effect round out this premiere roadside attraction.

Yep. and I'll let you know it meant nothing that I popped atleast 12 tabs of exstacy before I played that night... it was, well.... hmmm.

Moving on.
I can easily say that after scouring Austin for a day and a half there was no sign of Menace. I was becoming discouraged and continuing to text all those fags back at home worried about Johnny... Scumbag was the most upset. I could see him sitting there in his trailer with tears streaming down his cheeks. I tried my best to console him but it was clear his heart was broken:

shane i have not found him yet
do u really think hes dead emma
i am trying to have hope
im so depressed i cant blog anymore
no shane say it isnt so!
i m sorry emma i just cant
SHANE NOOOOOOO!!!

and the wedding party was gone... just like that.

I hope you're somewhere reading this Johnny and that you understand what your disappearance has done to poor fragile souls like Scumbag. First he questions his manhood.... and now this... you gone... Im not sure he'll ever be the same.

In fact, let's all have a moment for Shane before we move on... and maybe a candlelight prayer vigil for Menace and his safe return before we continue the journey through the Lone Star state.... Yes, and while you do that I'll play more smut putt.

please bow your heads.

Menacing Mission: Week 1

So after meeting Satan in Lewiston, ID for pancakes I traveled south-east and down through Utah, then Kansas... smack dab into Oklahoma...

all in pursuit of finding Johnny Menace.

I was certain I would find him somewhere in Utah making anatomically correct paper dollies with the special ed Mormons in Provo... or slathered in Zebras at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado.

Nope, no dice. Sorry folks.

What I did find were these other really cool and fascinating things that made me think I could get seriously distracted on this journey and never return home.

And not returning home might not be so bad... since rents due and I'm broke... and the landlord keeps using my body in disgusting ways already...

and he tells me as he hits me that "Johnny never complained..."

I'll have to sleep with his wife if I don't come back with money for rent... and his 13 year old son too. Probably at the same time while I pet his schnauzer "Frank" and max out on 40 tabs of extasy just to keep rolling with the punches...

"Why can't you be more like Johnny..." he'll yell at me.. I just know it. That fucking landlord bastard.

....


Anyway, where was I? Oh, other interesting things... right. Okay.

First, Chief Baconrind. Welcome to Skedee. Right, where am I?

"...I will build for them a landmark

That the coming race may see

All the beauties of the friendship

That exists 'tween them and me...."

That's right. Tonto Baconrind and Col. C. Walters shook hands that day and decided "friendship was best put your injuns to the test." So.. Col. Walters put in a Walmart and sent most of the good Indian women to adorn terrible blue vests and wear hair-nets when working the snack bar.

Meanwhile good ol' Chief Baconrind got kickbacks from the Walmart and had his choice of the best of everything... yep.... to pork any single white woman under "birthin' age" in Skedee Oklahoma... AND he was awarded a beautiful homestead to keep these preteen puppets... a 5 bedroom home....

Baconrind felt the home was not as charming as the tee-pee he pitched in his yard so long ago- before the white man brought him down.
So he slept in that instead..... or so we thought...

Because even though the home was a bit much for the modest man... Baconrind was only using that as a great excuse to cover up the fact that he had a grow operation of Artichokes and Soy Beans inside.. to cope with his addictive veganism issue.

Chief Baconrind was hung.

The Walmart prospered.

Baconrind Jr. began a cross-pollination growth experience by combining soy and marijuana by elecrotherapy hydroponics and cooking oil.

Col. Walters Jr. bought it in bulk and sold it to residents in Tulsa...

There you go, a little history for you.

My Menacing Mission

"Where the hell is Johnny Menace?"

Honestly.
I don't know.

Yep even his "roomie" has no idea where he's run of to - he didn't leave a trace.

I know I shouldn't be worried because we both have a tendency to be 'flighty'... but really, it's been a while since he disappeared and the place here is strangely quiet without him pacing the shark tank.

What hasn't been so quiet is the gossip, and believe me the list of rumors is long... 47 to be precise. All of them are worthy of mentioning... but I think I'll share some here that I found 'tickled' me in a special place.

1. He got his head stuck somewhere up Gary Colemans ass.

2. He OD'd on Patron, pissed himself and forgot who he was.

3. He went to Boys Town for the donkey show and fell in love with the main attraction.

4. He met with an untimely and inappropriate animal attack, lost his penis in the struggle, and is undergoing a specialty "swedish addition" in a hospital near you.

5. He's in my trunk chewing on a gag-ball and humming some Deftones - and has been since the Scumbag '08 campaign Hasselhoff rebuttle.

6. His house was caught by a Tornado and flung to Kansas where it landed on top of PBC and Anna's trailer... and PBC shot him.

7. He's joined the priesthood to 'save' me. (Ok that one I am particularly fond of)

8. He's eloped to Vegas to marry Shelly and take some time getting to know his new step-son, Shawn.

9. He and Anonymous ran away to make $900 a day doing something they enjoy - selling penis enhancers and ginko for memory issues.

10. Johnny Menace was really James Brown.

Regardless of why and how, what is important now is to find our good friend Johnny Menace and bring him back home. Like he's done for us when we've been lost... right White Devil?

I mean, let's be serious here... How do we know he hasn't been kidnapped and is being held hostage by some disgruntled Porn workers/mudwrestling Labor Union for unpaid services rendered?
Or being skull-fucked by some sick serial cannibal that is freezing his kidneys for next weeks pate'...
or worse... jail?

Nah, I have to find him. So I've decided to begin a search.
In Johnny's honor. Done Johnny's way.

Until Johnny is found.

I've bought a shit load of plane tickets.
My bags are packed.
It's a good thing I don't wear underwear often or this bag would be much heavier.

No worries people, I will chronicle my search as I go.

The ups, the downs, the ups.. the downs... and well, the ups....
Okay well I'll only chronicle until I find him and then well... that may have to be a short story or something.

I hope to have him back in time for the Seahawks/Cowboys game. Because Seattle is going to win - I just know it.

And I need to rub it in his face.... ffoorreevvveeerrrr.

Wish me luck and pray that Johnny returns safe... and with all eleven fingers.