What is the appropriate peanut butter to choke an obnoxious citizen with -- crunchy or smooth?
--Blade of the Mighty Bastard Operator, 4 Phlegethon St., Dis
Dearest Longname McTruncatedstein:
That depends entirely on the mode of delivery for said butter of peanut. It's just not as simple as "Is Mr. Peanut gonna have to choke a bitch?" after all. I will present you with some of the better peanut butter delivery maneuvers and my textural suggestions, for your reference; there are, after all, only so many ways to choke a person with an orangeish, brownish, sepiaesque, semi-edible, sticky goo-like substance such as the one you wish to use as a choking medium. I won't speculate on whether or not this will be a murder choking or not, so adjust accordingly depending on your desired outcome.
And don't come cryin' to me if it doesn't work out. Don't sue me either. I am only offering text; what you do with it is between you and the makers of Jif(tm). Sue them instead. Make it a class action suit and go after all the peanut butter makers. For good measure, include the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups people and whoever makes those little cracker sandwiches with peanut butter in the middle. Make a shrine out of Nutter Butter(tm)s and say in your suit that the ghost of Don Knotts got you addicted to Nutter Butter(tm)s and murder because you've never been quite right since they cancelled Herman's Head.
You'll be known as Mu'dder Butter by the tabloids, who will make you one of their elite. You'll have awesome three-ways and coke parties with Bigfoot and Bat Boy. You'll be world famous! Soon, copycats such as Nutella Necromancer and Marmalade Medusa will take your style to a whole new level. You'll slowly fade into obscurity either imprisoned or impoverished, but your techniques will create a whole new breed of murderous and/or simply mischievous psychopath that will prevail for generations to come.
Somebody's got to do it, that's all I'm saying. Whether or not that is you is completely up to you. Seriously, though, that would be so cool. I'd so read your memoirs.
But don't do it. If you do, don't hold me responsible. Even though I would really, really admire a person that could turn such a seemingly innocuous substance into a source of power and dominion over others. But I won't condone it.
Even though that shit sounds so awesome.
1) ON SUCH A WINTER'S DAY
Simply, this involves a gigantic sandwich so full of tasty bread spackle that it will not only stick to one's inner mouth, but one's internal plumbing as well. Smooth is much more effective as an adhesive, of course, but adding some crunchy in there adds insult to injury. A miniature plunger and two tablespoons of castor oil ought be kept close at hand in the event this is not a murder sandwich.
I recommend simply approaching this person on the street, shaking his/her hand, and offering the sandwich in the most polite way possible. Have the subject sign a release to eliminate your liability in the event of trauma. Let nature take its course.
It's possible your subject won't choke, but it may clog some pipes further down. (By "further down", I of course am referring to "ass pipes".) Perhaps the pain of constipation from cement-like colonic clogs will drive your subject to suicide and nobody will have to sue anybody, eh?
But still, sue the peanut butter companies. That would be wicked fun. Sue them for, uhm... looking at you cross-eyed. Spread some peanut butter on a slice of bread, draw a cross-eyed smiley face on it, and have loud, public arguments with said slice of bread until you have a nervous breakdown. Time it with rush hour, preferably on a freeway median. Liberal application of brightly colored eyeshadow beforehand is highly recommended.
2) DAYLIGHT COME AND ME WANT TO GO HOME
This one is best executed using a chunky variety -- the chunkier the better -- to give it the proper effect. To do this properly, hold a swank sandwich party at your swingin' bachelor pad or pad equivalent. (A hotel banquet room, VFW hall or community center basement can work in a pinch.) You will need to hire a medium that can act as the link between the spiritual and the culinary, such as the much sought after Madame Breville, hailing from Campignons-Magiques, Québec. She will, for a price, reanimate a formerly living creature using a food item as the body. In this case, Mme. Breville shall channel the spirits of human pathological stranglers and OCD-afflicted chronic male masturbators into six or seven sandwiches that will be placed in six or seven positions on a table.
Right before the eating is to begin, Mme. Breville will say the words "tiger eye" while waving her arms gaily towards the roof, as if to raise it (as dabblers in sorcery and 'party people' are wont to do, so I hear), which will trigger the spirits in the sandwiches to form arms and hands and search for the nearest cylindrical flesh pole to squeeze.
3) I HAVE THE POWAH!!
Fill a bucket with whatever peanut butter mixture you find appropriate. Approach your target. Forcefully put the bucket on said target's head. Punch said target repeatedly in the abdomen to force the bucket's contents into said target's respiratory and digestive systems.
4) I CAN'T BELIEVE I ATE THE WHOLE THING
Currently the smart, sciency-engineered expanding dehydrated peanut butter capsules are only available in smooth, but all's well that ends well. Offer your target five capsules at once. Say they're vitamins or something.
If your target is a white male with dredlocks, simply hand him the capsules and say "'Ey, brah -- eat this."
5) IF HE FIGHTS BACK, I'LL SAY THAT HE'S GAAaAaAAYYEEEee...
You will need a motor vehicle and a lake or reservoir filled adequately with the non-chunky variety. Offer your target a ride. Take a detour past said Lake of Buttered Nut Meats. Jerk the wheel. Hilarity ensues!
6) GOD BLESS 'BUTTER' NATURE, SHE'S A SINGLE WOMAN TOO
Dress in a ceremonial Speedo made out of peanut shells. 32 minutes after drinking two cups of strong Panax Ginseng tea, approach your target while holding a boombox. Put down the boombox and force a large funnel into his/her mouth. In this boombox you will have a Weather Girls CD. Turn It's Raining Men on at the loudest volume possible, on "Repeat". Let the music take you into a ceremonial rain dance, in which you will alternately scream in tongues and ride Funnelface McMark like a greased stripper pole. According to all sources, this will cause not only an abundance of men, but smooth, creamy peanut butter as well, to drop down from the heavens.
If it's chunky, you did it wrong, and you're a funnel-clogging, objective-failing douche.
7) MACGYVER, YOU'VE CHANGED
Build one of those two-part teleporter machines. Disguise the exit hole as Steve Buscemi and program it to walk and talk like Steve Buscemi. Have this teleporter hole walk up to your target and begin a conversation. Depending on how annoying this target is, you may need to program it to talk about sports, politics, macrame, American Idol, current and upcoming weather conditions, continuity errors in all episodes of Three's Company, and a-hole ex-husbands.
At the entrance hole, have ready a high-speed, high-volume matter propulsion device with a large hose attached to the end of it, drawing from a tank of Extra Chunky. At the precise moment Buscemi Portal t-6000 disagrees with your subject in any fashion, he will stomp on Target Individual's feet repeatedly with the desired result being a gaping maw from pain and yelping. Also at this precise moment you are to shoot precisely 28.3 gallons into the teleporter, which will cause it to burst out of Buscemi Portal t-6000's eyes, nose and mouth (along with girlish screams) at such high velocity that it will fill all nooks, crannies and orifices in a 20-foot radius.
SHORT ANSWER: Smooth. Don't sue. Don't murder with food either.
Also? Village People. Enjoy!
ASK MR. CARGO!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment