The Lost Nirvana Cartoon Episode: Difference between revisions
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(Created page with "{{Note credit|This is a fictional joke story written by DaveTheUseless. Don't take it seriously, fellas.}} Have you ever heard of the Nirvana movie? No? Good. That’s because there never was one. Kurt Cobain thought that’d be selling out, citing his punk rock ethic and penchant for the go-find-yourself narratives of Jack Kerouac novels. Anyway, the good news is that Nirvana managed to make their way onto the small screen instead of the silver one—in the form of MTV...") |
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{{Note credit|This is a fictional joke story written by DaveTheUseless. Don't take it seriously, fellas.}}
Have you ever heard of the Nirvana movie? No? Good.
It was 12 past midnight, and I had just gotten laid off from my job as a
I was a pretty big fan of the cartoon, and at first, the theme song
The episode began with Kurt Cobain with his hand in his pants, watching what appeared to be the evening news. He had on a homemade Fermented Sloths t-shirt, which
It was an episode of Frasier, but… Dr. Frasier
The next call was… similar. It was a child, though. Claimed he clubbed his father to death for training him to hate his mother, who his father ruthlessly murdered for failing to cook dinner by their usual set time. This reminded me that my creamed corn was still burning away in the oven. I laughed at the thought of my wife being useful enough to get out of bed + retrieve it. Then again, I think she died a few years ago. I returned my focus to the television set to hear a stream of stories that made less + less sense to anyone who
A funeral that suspiciously featured the presence of the first caller himself! Using my deductive reasoning, I realized that the woman in the casket was none other than his wife.
I could only wonder why the man who had murdered his own wife with the product he had sold had been allowed to even attend the cartoon funeral. This, of course, was a scene from the Fox television
The scene returned to Peggy
Now, I guess that I
I was just about to turn off the TV and force myself into having sex with my sleeping wife when the doorbell rang.
Hmmm. A grisly looking, orange-haired man with a vein snapping, bursting out of his forehead, and disheveledly bloodshot eyes stared back at me.
Ohhhh, no! Nooo, thank you! I
…Wait. That dream. That was it. I was dreaming! All I had to do was pinch myself, or yell at myself to wake up, maybe. But I…I was running out of time. The orange haired man was ascending the upstairs steps while pulling off his pants, revealing that he had a small pizza box wrapped around his genitalia the entire time…stapled. I winced. Eugh…
I could hear the Nirvana episode playing downstairs. Kurt was talking, seemingly to himself.
Then I… then I woke up. Someway, someow, those words were like an alarm clock going off. I was self-aware again. I was a community college computer science tutor. I used to be in a punk, perhaps grunge band with a guy who no longer would talk to me. I used to have long hair. Unkempt. Disheveled. I had received a
I felt as if I had been in a trance for years. I had…changed. Gone crazy, maybe? But all those loose ends…even the ones that seemed to be random ultimately had some merit or explanation to them. I was afraid of objective truth, and personal responsibility. Failed attempts at romantic relationships, and at finding long-term emotional and financial security. I
When I woke up again—this time, for real, I guessed—I was in a Halloween store stockroom. I saw masks all around me. Bill Cosby, Super Mario, Jerry Seinfeld, Bullwinkle J. Moose. The kid from Adventure Time. What was I doing here? I looked down on the dirty, dusty retail stockroom floor to see a pizza box—open, with crums inside…and what appeared to be a letter.
I looked down to realize that my dark gray sweatpants were missing, and were replaced with Spider-man underoos. I had a feeling that this was a deep and powerful metaphor for…something, but I
I reached for the doorknob. It
I was a skeleton. In my right hand was a vaudeville style cane, and on top of my head, a top hat. I
This is what we were been born to do
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So sink into a taco and slurp down Ducklite beer
Though I prefer Mountain
I coughed. Cleared my throat. Changed up the course of the musical number. Tossed off the top hat, + pulled a beatnik beanie cap out of my ribcage. I snapped my bony, flesh and sinewless fingers and began to recite a poem. But then I exploded. Highly realistic gore flew everywhere.
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I
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So,
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Weeee! Nintendo:
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