One time, in the summer of 4444, Old Woman Crockers decided to go crazy with her woodchipper and turn it on to the busy street in the middle of walking hour (When all citizens are required to go outside and walk for 30 seconds before returning to their regular lethargic activities) causing a general hysteria among the bewildered pedestrians. Not me. I never leave home without three basic essentials: a glass of water (quarter way filled), my faithful dingo skin hat, and a reinforced woodchipper deflecting shield.
They call me The Groff. That's short for Groffif. Which is short for Groffifif. I was born under the alias Groffifif Fiffrig Jr III. I make my living around these parts as a self proclaimed private detective. You may have heard of me after my involvement in the big Butterknife Casino Scandal case last September. No big deal, just some undercover sleuthing that led to the arrests of 3 individual criminals. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a legend around these parts as self proclaimed private detective.
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| They call me.. The Groff |
I tried to shoot the dang thing, but he jumped straight up so fast that I couldn't get a mark on him. I could hear a loud crunch accompanied by an annoyed grunt as he hit his head (?) on the metal staircase above, followed by the satisfying noise of flesh hitting brick paved street as the thing came down on the other side of the alley. It lay there for a second as I stood there staring, too stunned to even let out an arrogant chuckle at the sorry mess. But after several seconds (about 6) it got up and ran away in a way similar to a wild goose running from an angry wolverine. After that strange encounter, I decided it was time to head back to my office to reflect on the experience, and also decide if it actually happened or if the spicy chemicals in the air were getting to me again.
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It was at least 3 weeks later when I received a chilling piece of mail. I was sitting in my living quarters, which is just a modest apartment located in the gutters of terminal 7, containing just a table and a bathroom. The basics. Suddenly, the mail bell started to ring and my precious table (the only furniture I own) started to shake violently. I braced myself for the worst possible scenario, rapidly pulling out my trusty double edged machete from inside my leather robe, ground down to a safe and legal blunt edge. I squatted down into my war stance, preparing for an all out assault attack.
After several seconds of grueling anticipation, the hole in the ceiling popped open and a single tattered envelope fell through. I waited there for a little while longer to make sure no fiery imps or something of the sort weren't about to come busting through, then I aggressively swiped for the mysterious parcel that I had received. I was hoping it was my yearly allowance from my mother, but I was disappointed to find that it was just another death threat, written on suspicious brown paper in messy unprofessional handwriting. The classic signature of a true evil deity.
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It was at least 3 weeks later when I received a chilling piece of mail. I was sitting in my living quarters, which is just a modest apartment located in the gutters of terminal 7, containing just a table and a bathroom. The basics. Suddenly, the mail bell started to ring and my precious table (the only furniture I own) started to shake violently. I braced myself for the worst possible scenario, rapidly pulling out my trusty double edged machete from inside my leather robe, ground down to a safe and legal blunt edge. I squatted down into my war stance, preparing for an all out assault attack.
After several seconds of grueling anticipation, the hole in the ceiling popped open and a single tattered envelope fell through. I waited there for a little while longer to make sure no fiery imps or something of the sort weren't about to come busting through, then I aggressively swiped for the mysterious parcel that I had received. I was hoping it was my yearly allowance from my mother, but I was disappointed to find that it was just another death threat, written on suspicious brown paper in messy unprofessional handwriting. The classic signature of a true evil deity.
It was clear that I had a case on my hands. Evil deties such as this one are not to be dealt with lightly, and there's only one person I trust enough to gather some information about situations such as this one, my buddy Porpice Grapple over at Station 9.
I slammed open the thin cardboard door leading to the inside of Station 9 open, setting off a chain reaction of barking cats, smoke grenades, and sprinkler systems.
"Porpice you fat goof where the hell you are hiding!" I shouted into the back room, where I know Porpice likes to take his daily 40 hour naps at. Within minutes, the floor started to tremble under the tremendous weight of the gargantuan man as he waddled out of the storage room that he utilizes as his living quarters.
"Whooo the hell is out there and what the hell d'ya want!" the large man bellowed angrily, as Porpice does not appreciate being woken from his 40 hour naps.
"It's me, old buddy, 'The Groff'!" I politely informed him.
"I ain't never heard of no'one with that name, so get the hell out of my shop/living quarters you dirty sloth!"
It was clear that my approach wasn't working. Luckily, I had a plan C (talking nicely was plan B, plan A was just standing there hoping he could read my mind). From within my spacious leather robe, I whipped out a small pack of delicious crusty noodle crumbs.
Within seconds, Porpice stiffened up his stature and sniffed the air inquisitively. I took a step closer to him then awkwardly pursed open his clammy lips and placed some of the delicious snack into his mouth. He took several minutes to process this new information, then started to chew audibly. After a couple of seconds of chewing, his eyes widened dramatically and he suddenly opened his mouth to scream in pleasure. Half salivated crunchy noodles flew freely out of his mouth in every direction, with several chunks of warm half-chewed food finding their way into my mouth. It didn't matter though, because I had clearly won over Porpice's trust.
"What brings you to old Porpice's shop/living quarters noodle man?" Porpice asked. I grimly handed him the letter I had received earlier in the mail. He took about 20 minutes to read the whole thing, tediously looking up every word in a tattered dictionary that appeared to have all but one of the pages torn out.
"Great smokin' hell!" he spontaneously remarked,"What're you gon' do 'bout this here evil deity?!"
"That is why I have come to seek your help, old friend" I explained. Porpice stared at me for a moment as if he had no idea how to help me. Then, he pivoted around suddenly as if he had remembered the location of something that could be useful. In his sudden movement, he tripped over some junk that was laying on the floor of his shop/ living quarters. He flailed desperately to try and save his balance, knocking down miscellaneous knick-knacks and garbage off of various shelves around the room and on the walls. He landed on the floor with a painful sounding thud, creating a large crater of broken tile beneath him as he hit the floor.
Porpice lay still in his crater for a while as I stood there watching bemusedly. Then, he spontaneously started rolling across the dirty floor until he reached a rusty old filing cabinet in the corner that I hadn't noticed before. He slid open the bottom drawer, presumably so he wouldn't have to expend the extra effort to pick himself up off of the floor. He reached up one of his hands and rustled around in the drawer for a few minutes before realizing that it was completely empty.
With a sudden burst of strength, he forcefully tugged on the cabinet until it began to slowly topple over, junk spilling out of the drawers all over the place. The heavy looking cabinet landed right on top of poor Porpice, and he let out a distressed grunt underneath the weight. This did not deter him from his mission however, as he reached his arm into one of the drawers and once again began to search around for something.
Porpice let out a muffled yet excited sounding squeel as he pulled his arm out of the drawer and held up a disgusting looking jar filled with some sort of bubbling brown liquid.
"Porpice, I don't think a jar filled with your old toilet water is going to help me destroy evil deities" I told him.
"No, no, NO!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled from beneath the filing cabinet that was holding him hostage, "this here's a real potent mix of chemicals, oh YES! Brewed by Gordon Gordon HIMSELF! It'll do the trick alright, just pour it all o'er that evil deity and it'll be BYE-BYE, see-ya! for that ol' sucker!"
I cautiously stepped over various piles of debris and hesitantly took the grimy jar from out of Porpice's outstretched hand. I walked out the door of Station 9 (Porpices shop/living quarters) without another word.
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It was starting to get awfully dark in the streets of Ghumada, so I decided that I should start heading back towards my apartment. Believe me, you do NOT want to get stuck in the streets of Ghumada in the dark. Something about angry weasels with sharp teeth attacking bystanders. So, I began walking down the street in the direction opposite of my apartment for some reason. Nothing seemed out of place on this particular night: the sunset was covered up by a thick layer of dark smog, an innocent old man was being slapped arund by a bunch of mean looking thugs, there was even a gnarly looking dog eating the face off of an old corpse that someone had dropped on the side of the street.
I walked around the corner of Glambroke and Porkson. I was startled to notice something extremely out of place in downtown Ghumada: bright lights and people yelling in joy. Looking down the street, I saw a large orange tent set up in the middle of the street with a line of people standing in front of it. It appeared to be some sort of carnival or something. There were even several children about, lined up in front of a snack shop that looked like it had been closed for at least 6 years, evident by the large "CLOSED FOREVER" sign pinned to the front. This was clearly something that required my best investigational skills.
I eagerly pulled off my regular gloves, then from within my ever expanding leather robe, I whipped out my flamboyant investigating gloves.
I was now fully prepared to begin my investigation. I crept towards the strange carnival type thing with extreme caution, moving while crouching low to the ground, and diving behind bushes whenever possible to avoid detection. After 15 minutes of this foolish behavior, I looked back and discovered that I was actually further away from the target than I had began with. I decided to take the quick route instead. I whipped out my loudest dong bell from out of my leather robe and started ringing it loudly as I sprinted full speed towards the spectacle.
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| "Porpice Grapple" |
"Porpice you fat goof where the hell you are hiding!" I shouted into the back room, where I know Porpice likes to take his daily 40 hour naps at. Within minutes, the floor started to tremble under the tremendous weight of the gargantuan man as he waddled out of the storage room that he utilizes as his living quarters.
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| "Station 9", the shop/living quarters of Porpice Grapple |
"Whooo the hell is out there and what the hell d'ya want!" the large man bellowed angrily, as Porpice does not appreciate being woken from his 40 hour naps.
"It's me, old buddy, 'The Groff'!" I politely informed him.
"I ain't never heard of no'one with that name, so get the hell out of my shop/living quarters you dirty sloth!"
It was clear that my approach wasn't working. Luckily, I had a plan C (talking nicely was plan B, plan A was just standing there hoping he could read my mind). From within my spacious leather robe, I whipped out a small pack of delicious crusty noodle crumbs.
Within seconds, Porpice stiffened up his stature and sniffed the air inquisitively. I took a step closer to him then awkwardly pursed open his clammy lips and placed some of the delicious snack into his mouth. He took several minutes to process this new information, then started to chew audibly. After a couple of seconds of chewing, his eyes widened dramatically and he suddenly opened his mouth to scream in pleasure. Half salivated crunchy noodles flew freely out of his mouth in every direction, with several chunks of warm half-chewed food finding their way into my mouth. It didn't matter though, because I had clearly won over Porpice's trust.
"What brings you to old Porpice's shop/living quarters noodle man?" Porpice asked. I grimly handed him the letter I had received earlier in the mail. He took about 20 minutes to read the whole thing, tediously looking up every word in a tattered dictionary that appeared to have all but one of the pages torn out.
"Great smokin' hell!" he spontaneously remarked,"What're you gon' do 'bout this here evil deity?!"
"That is why I have come to seek your help, old friend" I explained. Porpice stared at me for a moment as if he had no idea how to help me. Then, he pivoted around suddenly as if he had remembered the location of something that could be useful. In his sudden movement, he tripped over some junk that was laying on the floor of his shop/ living quarters. He flailed desperately to try and save his balance, knocking down miscellaneous knick-knacks and garbage off of various shelves around the room and on the walls. He landed on the floor with a painful sounding thud, creating a large crater of broken tile beneath him as he hit the floor.
Porpice lay still in his crater for a while as I stood there watching bemusedly. Then, he spontaneously started rolling across the dirty floor until he reached a rusty old filing cabinet in the corner that I hadn't noticed before. He slid open the bottom drawer, presumably so he wouldn't have to expend the extra effort to pick himself up off of the floor. He reached up one of his hands and rustled around in the drawer for a few minutes before realizing that it was completely empty.
With a sudden burst of strength, he forcefully tugged on the cabinet until it began to slowly topple over, junk spilling out of the drawers all over the place. The heavy looking cabinet landed right on top of poor Porpice, and he let out a distressed grunt underneath the weight. This did not deter him from his mission however, as he reached his arm into one of the drawers and once again began to search around for something.
Porpice let out a muffled yet excited sounding squeel as he pulled his arm out of the drawer and held up a disgusting looking jar filled with some sort of bubbling brown liquid.
"Porpice, I don't think a jar filled with your old toilet water is going to help me destroy evil deities" I told him.
"No, no, NO!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled from beneath the filing cabinet that was holding him hostage, "this here's a real potent mix of chemicals, oh YES! Brewed by Gordon Gordon HIMSELF! It'll do the trick alright, just pour it all o'er that evil deity and it'll be BYE-BYE, see-ya! for that ol' sucker!"
I cautiously stepped over various piles of debris and hesitantly took the grimy jar from out of Porpice's outstretched hand. I walked out the door of Station 9 (Porpices shop/living quarters) without another word.
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It was starting to get awfully dark in the streets of Ghumada, so I decided that I should start heading back towards my apartment. Believe me, you do NOT want to get stuck in the streets of Ghumada in the dark. Something about angry weasels with sharp teeth attacking bystanders. So, I began walking down the street in the direction opposite of my apartment for some reason. Nothing seemed out of place on this particular night: the sunset was covered up by a thick layer of dark smog, an innocent old man was being slapped arund by a bunch of mean looking thugs, there was even a gnarly looking dog eating the face off of an old corpse that someone had dropped on the side of the street.
I walked around the corner of Glambroke and Porkson. I was startled to notice something extremely out of place in downtown Ghumada: bright lights and people yelling in joy. Looking down the street, I saw a large orange tent set up in the middle of the street with a line of people standing in front of it. It appeared to be some sort of carnival or something. There were even several children about, lined up in front of a snack shop that looked like it had been closed for at least 6 years, evident by the large "CLOSED FOREVER" sign pinned to the front. This was clearly something that required my best investigational skills.
I eagerly pulled off my regular gloves, then from within my ever expanding leather robe, I whipped out my flamboyant investigating gloves.
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| "Investigating gloves" |
I was about 100 yards from reaching the place when I tripped over some sort of tree root or alien and painfully landed face down in the street. I eventually skidded to a stop right in front of the large tent. I lifted my head off the ground and was horrified to discover that the world had somehow been converted to all black and white. The sky was gray, the large tent was gray, even my formerly flamboyant investigating gloves had been mysteriously converted to a depressing grayscale layout. Oh hell!
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| Oh hell! |
I needed to get inside. Logically, my first instinct was to try and enter through the opening labeled "ENTRANCE". As I was about to enter however, several large folks were hurled out of the opening, landing face down in a pit of foul smelling mud. They made no attempt to move.
Clearly, this was some sort of elaborate test. Luckily, my quick wits and highly developed critical thinking skills led me to deduct that the correct entrance was somewhere else. I started to walk around the outside of the tent to try and find another way in.
Suddenly there was a powerful sounding ripping noise as the fabric of the tent tore open. A hefty man with large forehead muscles leapt out of the opening that he had apparently just created to come out and greet me through. He sized me up for a second, then started to scream unnecessarily loud in my face.
"HEEEEEYYYYYY!!" he yelled, "My name's STRONG LARRY! But you can call me STRONG LARRY!!" (Note that the second vocalization of "Strong Larry" was no different than the first)
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| "Strong Larry" |
"Welcome" he continued "To the VOODOO SHOWCASE!" He held out the syllable on the last word, continuing to scream unpleasantly in my saliva coated face.
After he had finished his despicable introduction, Strong Larry skillfully jumped backwards back into the opening in the tent that he had created earlier. He didn't even look backwards to see where he was going as he did so, almost like he was moving in reverse. After the robust man had disappeared within the tent, a team of small men scuttled up to the hole in the tent, simultaneously whipping out their needles and thread to begin repairing the tear. These nifty gnome-like men had completed their repairs in less than a minute, and hurriedly scattered away after their work was completed. I wasn't quite sure how to process this.
After several minutes of scouring the perimeter of the tent trying to find a way in, I came to a door with a sign over it labeled "EXIT ONLY NO ENTRANCE". Logically, I figured that this would make a suitable entrance, and I casually stepped inside.
I immediately noticed a strange odor staining the air inside the tent, like a combination of melted plastic and ripe citrus. There was also a visible cloud of thick fog gathered at the ceiling, swirling around ominously in the dim light. Strange pulsing music with weird whining buzzes recurring intermittently could be heard distantly. I took a step forward, broken glass and other painful debris crunching beneath my bare feet. There was a large crowd of around 20 or so people gathered around a large stage in the center of the space. There attention was focused on a strange man standing on the stage speaking. As he turned towards me, I recognized him immediately!
I immediately noticed a strange odor staining the air inside the tent, like a combination of melted plastic and ripe citrus. There was also a visible cloud of thick fog gathered at the ceiling, swirling around ominously in the dim light. Strange pulsing music with weird whining buzzes recurring intermittently could be heard distantly. I took a step forward, broken glass and other painful debris crunching beneath my bare feet. There was a large crowd of around 20 or so people gathered around a large stage in the center of the space. There attention was focused on a strange man standing on the stage speaking. As he turned towards me, I recognized him immediately!
The evil deity with a sack on his head was running this frightening hell show! He appeared to divert his gaze directly toward me for a few terrible moments with an unblinking and honestly horrifying open-mouthed gaze. My evasive measures training promptly kicked in as I stealthily collapsed to the floor, ignoring the painful shards of glass and other pointed projectiles scattering the floor piercing my various extremities.
The man with a sack on his head let out a terrible piercing screech that left the audience members groaning in pain with their chubby hands over their ears. Suddenly, the evil deity on the stage turned around and ran behind a thick black curtain. Several seconds later, he returned to the stage, dragging a large gray hose behind him. He took a moment to take in the audience's expressions, then calmly turned the hose on, pointed directly at the audience.
A horrible clear liquid drenched the very souls (and coincidently their socks) of all the innocent citizens gathered inside the area. They did not try to run away, rather they just groaned uncomfortably as they stood there being tortured by the evil deity. He cackled deviously as he watched them moan in pain.
It was time for me to take action. I tried to crawl up to the stage without being seen by the evil man with the sack on his head. I had to squeeze through the fat legs of a few miserable spectators, but they did not seems to care or notice. Finally, I reached the platform that my long-time enemy stood upon.
I jumped up onto the stage, attempting a cool looking backflip but landing on my side with an audible crunch. Damn, this was going to be much harder than I originally anticipated. I stood up slowly, ignoring my several cracked ribs and blood pooling on the stage beneath me.
The man with a sack on his head was still busy torturing those innocent people below him, cackling madly as he enjoyed his favorite hobby. He was so caught up in being evil that he didn't even notice me walk up right in front of him with a dirty looking vile containing a potent foul smelling liquid.
However, I did not anticipate the effect of the hose he was holding as I stepped in front of him. As I heroically confronted him, I was blasted backwards off of the stage, slapping the wall like a slippery ham and crumpling uselessly to the floor.
Oh hell! I would have to find a way back up to the stage to finish the job by destroying this evil deity once and for all with the strange blend of chemicals I was equipped with. However, when I looked into the palm of my hand where I clasped the small glass vile, I noticed with a start that I had somehow come to hold it upside down. The liquid sizzled down my leg for a moment, before I suddenly vanished with a puff of brown smoke.
