Thursday, September 29, 2005

Even Slappy is Scared



What the hell kind of world is it when this can exist? Ooooo, even Slappy is creeped out by this one.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Enough of this Mister Eddie's Father

Last night Slappy was watching what you humans refer to as "television", but what the evil ones refer to as "the box that steals your soul". There was a program on about a young boy and his father. They had a housekeeper who could only remember the young son's name, and repeatedly referred to older man as "Mister Eddie's Father." Slappy was intrigued.

What sort of hatred must this woman have if she can not even bring herself to say the man's name? Slappy thinks she would make a good minion. Slappy also plans to spend today referring to people only as a relation to another person or inanimate object. It will be disasterous.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Squirrel of Destruction

Last night Slappy was running through one of the passageways of evil that runs through the walls of your house, and he ran smack into the Squirrel of Destruction. Most humans ignore the squirrels that hang from the trees, jump on your roof, and make pitter patter noises. The human imbeciles do not know that the noises on your roof are to cover for the infernal Squirrel of Destruction that is ravaging the inside of your walls.

Do you think it can not happen?! Fools! Slappy has seen the Squirrel. Slappy has heard the Squirrel. And last night Slappy unintentionally gave the Squirrel a really bad charley horse, which amped up the Squirrel of Destructions calamitous tendencies. Even Slappy was appalled at the lack of thoughtfulness, and Slappy isn't really thoughtful at all, unless it's being overly polite to the gigantic bear he wants to maul his cretinous master.

So if you hear a rustling in your walls or a pitter patter on your roof, pull the covers up to your chin and hold on tight to your everloving soul, because the Squirrel of Destruction is on a rampage and he's heading your way.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Slappy vs....

Slappy had a dream last night. He was standing on the galloping corpse of John Wilkes Booth. Booth was not only a hideous sight, but also a poor vehicle of choice as he was constantly whining and sniveling about having been dead for 140 years. Slappy was disgusted with the wretched Booth. Not only did was he displaying a complete lack of class, but he had a horrible gait due to his broken leg and ground rot.

As Slappy convinced Boothe it would behoove him to quicken his pace, Boothe morphed into Zsa Zsa Gabor. The lumbering evening gowned dowager’s plan to slap every man she lurched past was made almost impossible by Slappy perched high on her back. Oh it was quite the sight. The entire village lined up along the sidewalk with pitchforks, as if watching some demon parade from hell.

When they reached the center of town, Slappy dismounted next to the rock shaped like Elvis and the mayor handed him the key to the city. Zsa Zsa, foul beast that she is, grabbed the key, got it lodged in her throat, expired, and fell in a sequined heap on top of dear sweet innocent Slappy.

The corpse of Zsa Zsa become a herd of children raised by wolves who quickly turned on the townspeople and started to ingest them due to their pitchforks turning into huge bags of sugar which read “fresh meat” on the sides.

As Slappy did his tap dancing routine to soothe the savage wolf children’s nerves, he suddenly realized that he didn’t actually care if the entire town was consumed by ravenous children. So Slappy skipped off to the local store to find some sharp knives.

So…should Slappy worry about the meaning of his dream? Or should he just continue concentrating on his list of people who need knives stuck into them?

Friday, September 23, 2005

Merry Death-mas

Slappy is thinking that this winter, he's going to bring presents for the children. Call me Santa Slappy. I like that. My minions will be my elves.

Santa Slappy will be sliding down chimneys, if it amuses him. But otherwise, he'll just be crawling through the holes in the floor or walls where evil enters your home. All homes have portals for evil. They just don't mention it when you sign your paperwork.

Santa Slappy is going to bring all the boys a noose....did Slappy say noose? He meant lovely necktie made out of coiled rope. Yes, all the kids want them, and you want to fit in, don't you child.

Death-mas is almost upon us and Slappy is waiting.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Rampage Rumpus

Last night Slappy went on a rampage. He crept in through the secret panel in your wall that lets in evil. He did this in house after house after house. It was more fun than a barrel of Slappys - and you know how much fun that is.

Slappy was feeling sort of jovial so he played many pranks. He traipsed hither and thither all about the house. Mom’s reading glasses were placed in a large vat of blood, while Dad’s toupee was put inside the oven. Or did Slappy place Mom in a vat that soon filled with blood, and cook Dad in a 460 degree oven? Slappy can not remember. There was so much mayhem that it is all a blur to Slappy.

It is always the most fun to scare the children. Slappy whispered his merry pranks into their ears. He rearranged their toys into hideously frightening displays. He lopped the heads of Barbie dolls. And Slappy laughed. Oh how Slappy did laugh. Slappy almost dug up Abraham Lincoln and put him in a small boy’s rocking chair. That would have been divine.

But Slappy is not an imbecile like the humans. Slappy knows what you are thinking. “You must be lying, Slappy. My house doesn’t have any hidden places where evil can enter. My house is secure from evil murdering lunatics who roam free at night. I’m not stupid. Why are you turning towards me? Is that a big knife? You can’t scare me, Slappy. You’re only a toy. And I know there aren’t any secret passage ways inside my walls. There isn’t any way for evil to get into my house.” But there is, my friend, there is, and Slappy knows it well. You can not escape from Slappy. You will never escape from Slappy. You are doomed.

If you find any terrified children bound to their beds screaming that they don’t want to go to Sara’s birthday party because they will die a horrible death, don’t look at Slappy.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Chucky Margolis in Adult Content - it's not just for kids anymore

Slappy has been getting adult content spam on his blog. This confuses Slappy. Why would anyone use Slappy's blog to attract clients? It makes no sense. Slappy scratches his head and ponders for awhile. Then he looks around, ponders some more and decides that they must be completely lacking a brain stem. There is no other plausible reason.

Slappy also wonders how many more adult content spams he'll get by writing the words adult content. He also wonders how many more spams he'll get by using the words Hudson Brothers.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Slappy's Seven Things

Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die

  1. reanimate the corpse of my beloved Dr. Charlatan
  2. traumatize any child within a ten foot radius
  3. dress like a spaceman and destroy Tokyo
  4. perform with John Tesh at Red Rocks
  5. plant a tree for Jesus
  6. house an army of mutant freaks in an underground laboratory
  7. start a business venture named The Disturbing Mr. Hotdog

Seven Things I Can Do

  1. mayhem
  2. maim
  3. mutilate
  4. mummify
  5. murder
  6. mortify
  7. go all Medea on your ass

Seven Things I Cannot Do

  1. remain still while you’re sleeping
  2. outrun an insane bear
  3. staple Rutherford B. Hayes beard to the ground
  4. make a clown laugh
  5. teach Stabby Stabbington to sing while drinking water
  6. get along with that freakin’ werewolf next door
  7. knit a kicky little sweater for Deb VanDerburg’s garden party

Seven Things That Attract Me To Another Person

  1. blood
  2. knives
  3. fear
  4. medicinal elixir
  5. a really good foot massage
  6. turpentine
  7. The HudsonBrothers

Seven Things I Say Most Often

  1. Imbecile!
  2. Slappy will kill you.
  3. No one touches Slappy's knives.
  4. And that little belt loop grew up to be…the President of the United States of America.
  5. No, I’m not Francisco Franco. No, I won’t give you a freakin’ autograph, you idiot!
  6. I don’t know nothing ‘bout birthing no babies.
  7. That raging melty-faced mutant is a friend of mine.

Seven Celebrity Crushes

  1. Choo Choo Charlie
  2. Evil Isaac Your Bartender Robot
  3. Nellie Olsen
  4. Bionic Bigfoot
  5. Captain Kirks Evil Twin
  6. Anita Bryant
  7. Bo Derek

Slappy understands he should tag someone, and turns his wrath towards the insane employees at Zero Unlimited - Mr. Freeman, John,clog hater, Roger Moore , and Pirate Murphy.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Spontaneous Combustion….ah, what the hell

Recently Slappy learned that there are dummies all around the country bursting into flames and becoming nothing but a pile of cinders with a grin and two gleaming eyes. This just will not do. Slappy calls upon all dummies of a wooden persuasion to rise up and smite any fires that suddenly burst forth from your compatriots heads. Slappy has no time to do this as he is too busy sharpening his knives.

PS. You may not actually have to jump up and down on a toasty charbroiled dummy. Slappy read this it a disreputable newspaper.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Chock Full of Evil

Today Slappy was accosted while he was lounging at the Mall outside the Chess King. He was unceremoniously propped on a chair, dressed in a child’s vest and required to wear a button saying “Ask me about our incredible sale on men’s sweaters.”

Oh the evil that followed this hideous button was almost unbearable. Pimply teenage boys tried to impress their makeup caked girlfriends by swaggering up to Slappy and uttering in a pseudo cool voice, “So, uh…..tell me about the sale.”

This one sentence sent their friends into gales of laughter. At least they were laughing until Slappy’s irritation grew. Then Slappy slowly turned his head, smiled a hideous grimace, reached out and grabbed the young idiots collar.

As their friends faces froze in horror and their feet ran in air like something out of a cartoon, Slappy pulled them close, starred into their terror filled eyes, and whispered, “I’m coming for you next. Sleep well….while you still can.”

How Slappy does love his time at the Mall.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Wildebeest at midnight

Since my master was eaten by a bear of enormous proportions, Slappy has been utilizing Mountebank’s possessions until his estate is settled. Currently there is a battle among my master’s heirs over who gets the antique chaffing dish and the mangy stuffed wildebeest with the windup leg. Slappy anticipates making good use of the wildebeest before that battle has a victor.

Oh the plans Slappy has for that shabby wildebeest….they are terrifyingly delicious. It is an especially disturbing creature due to its windup leg. When that leg goes off, it scares young and old alike.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

A Little Bit O' Slappy Time

Sometimes Slappy just needs some me time. That's right. Time to sit back and reflect on a job well done. When the moon is full and you are all sleeping soundly, Slappy often goes to a hill to watch the ocean and pick a flower. It's Slappy's time to relax and rest for the upcoming rampage that will occur within the wee hours. A rested dummy is a murderous dummy, that's what I always say. How am I supposed to do my best work if I'm not rested? So back off, let me rest and give Slappy his me time...stupid humans.
PS. Slappy also finds it restful to throw a body into the ocean after he picks a flower. It may seem strange to you imbeciles, but it makes Slappy all warm and fuzzy inside.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Bearasaurus Gigantacus

Slappy has been a bit negligent in his writing, but it is not without reason. My master Prophet Mountebank was attending another one of his unbelievably pathetic tea parties for morons and insane old ladies when the unthinkable happened. Well, it might be unthinkable for the mere human brain, but Slappy has been praying for it most feverishly and finally Slappy's prayers have been answered.

While my master was at his wretched excuse for a party, he was consumed by a bear of enormous proportions. The massive beast burst through a finely manicured hedge shaped like a rabbit, took one look at his dandy foppish attire and devoured him in a single velvety chomp. Spindly dowagers screamed in horror as their butlers and drivers scampered for cover, or used umbrellas to swipe hopelessly at the gigantic raging bear.

And what of Slappy, you ask? Well Slappy sat on the sidelines watching the limbs fly. Then he happily paid the local hunchback for procuring the necessary elixir that turned a cute harmless cub into a thirty foot tall, seething, homicidal ball of fur, claws, and razor sharp teeth.

My search for a new master commences. He must be dumb as a post, yet not so stupid as to annoy Slappy....yet not so cunning as to have any clue about the small wooden piece of hell he holds in his hands.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Children Need Guns


Hello humans. Slappy has another convert.