Yesterday, a “so called” Wizard was caught empty handed when he was unable to grant the requests of three WormHole Square residents who came to him for help.  Please check out the COMIC SCRIPTS PAGE for details.

 

          Yesterday, Dean Jordan, 55, went into, what he thought was a wart removal clinic, but instead came out with something he never imagined.  Below is what happened.

 

 

Wart Sculpture

INDIGO:  Wow, Mr. Jordan, you’re awake.  Soooooo what do you think?         

MR. JORDAN:  ( groggy ) Well, to tell you the truth, Indigo, I feel like I’m still under sedation right now…

INDIGO: Becaaaause…?

MR. JORDAN: Because the giant wart that was on my hand… the same wart you were supposed to remove… now looks like a replica of Michelangelo’s statue of David.

INDIGO:  I know, right!  I think it’s one of the best sculptures I’ve ever, ever, ever done.  So what do you think, man?

MR. JORDAN:  What?

INDIGO:  I want your honest opinion.  Don’t be afraid to hurt my –

MR. JORDAN: Are you out of your mind?  You were supposed to remove my unsightly, giant wart, not carve it into a piece of art!  Are you even a real doctor?

INDIGO: Oh, I’m not a doctor at all.  What ever gave you that impression?

MR. JORDAN:  You, you did!  You told me you could remove my giant, ugly wart.

INDIGO:  I did.  I removed it and replaced it with this beautiful work of renaissance art!

MR. JORDAN:  It’s a fucking wart sculpture!  Who’s ever heard of such a thing?!

INDIGO: Give it some time, Mr. Jordan.  You’ve got the rest of your life to get used to it.

MR. JORDAN:  The rest of my life?  You sound like this is a permanent thing.

INDIGO: Yes, and it’s a wonderful thing, man!  Unfortunately, I had to reposition the radial artery in you left wrist and attach it to the root of the wart.  So if the wart is ever removed you’ll probably bleed out in no time flat.

MR. JORDAN:  What?

INDIGO:  And then… I pulled the radial artery up through the leg of  David and embedded it into the base of his scrotum.

MR. JORDAN:  Why in God’s name would you do that?

INDIGO:  I felt the piece needed some added discomfort in order to capture just the right amount of contrapposto.

MR. JORDAN:  Contrapposto?  What the hell is that?!

INDIGO:  It’s what gives a sculptured figure that classic asymmetrical pose where the shoulders and hips are counter balanced gracefully.

MR. JORDAN:  Contrapposto… that sounds like some kind of Italian dish, risotto perhaps?

INDIGO:  Ahhhhhh, tempting, but that’s not really not important right now.  What’s important is that you keep your calendar clear next Saturday.

MR. JORDAN:  Why, so that this damn thing can heal?

INDIGO:  No, because you and the David wart sculpture have a show at the Walters Art Museum.

MR. JORDAN:  No way, no way, Indigo!  I’ve got a bowling tournament next Saturday.  No way I’m going to miss that.  I’m the anchor man!

INDIGO:  Hmmmmm… do you bowl with you right or left hand?

MR JORDAN:  Left… I do everything with my left hand.  I’m left handed. Why?  ( looks at sculpture on his left wrist )   Fuck!

INDIGO:  Yeeeeaaah, you’re gonna miss that bowling thing.

MR. JORDAN:  Oh my god, I can’t believe this shit!  This wart sculpture is gonna be so inconvenient for me.  I do everything with my left had.

INDIGO:  Everything?

MR. JORDAN: Yes, I bowl with it.  I admonish my pet turtle, Fitty, with it. I also wave insincerely to my neighbors with it, etcetera, etcetera.

INDIGO:  What else?

MR. JORDAN: ( embarrassed )  Well… there is one other thing, but I’m not comfortable saying it in the company of a woman.

INDIGO:  What?

MR. JORDAN:  You know.

INDIGO: What is it?

MR. JORDAN:  You know.

INDIGO:  No, I don’t know.  What else do you do with your left hand?

MR.  JORDAN:  I’m pretty sure you know.

INDIGO:  Could this activity be a euphemism for “admonishing your turtle?”

MR. JORDAN:  Huh?  No, I admonish my pet turtle, Fitty, when he flips on his back on purpose trying to look up my wife’s skirt.

INDIGO:  Nasty little turtle.

MR. JORDAN:  You mean- hard up, blind, and out of his mind, turtle.  Why would any living creature want to look up my wife’s dress?

INDIGO: Now THAT sounds like a euphemism for masterbation.

MR. JORDAN:  What?  No, that’s the exact opposite!  And that’s most certainly NOT what I was referring to in regards to my pet turtle, Fitty, and my left hand activities.

INDIGO:  Then what?

MR. JORDAN:  Flapjack flipping of course.

INDIGO:  You mean pancake.  Nobody says flapjack anymore.  And yes, I did notice some pancake batter residue on the left side of the wart base.

MR. JORDAN:  I was once the best flipper of flapjacks the world had ever known.

INDIGO:  Really, then why have I never known of you?

MR: JORDAN:  Because you were probably looking under pancakes.

INDIGO:  Touche´

MR. JORDAN:  See you Saturday at the Walters.

 

THEND

 

 

 

                   Yesterday, Cupid was caught attempting to harpoon a whale on the northside of the WormHole Square Harbor.

                 “Yeah, I caught him red handed,” said coast guard chief, Pat Ross.  He continued.  “And this is not the first time Cupid has done something like this.  Last year we caught him hunting endangered sea otters off the east shore bay.   Before that, he was over there off the southside of the harbor shooting at pelicans.  And I heard that last year the authorities nabbed him for shooting ducks up at the WormHole Square County Fair.  Five carnies got injured reportedly.  However, because entities like Cupid have limited diplomatic immunity, all we could do was file another criminal complaint, that in turn, had to be forwarded to Aphrodite’s office for prosecutorial consideration.”

              Chief Ross shook his head, frustrated, continued.  “It’s really out of our hands at this point.   You would think that Cupid would be out there shooting arrows into folks so that they could fall in love around this Valentine’s Day.  But no, that little bastard is up to his old shenanigans.  When he’s not doing this kind of stuff, he’s shooting his love arrows into two people who are complete opposites.  And these are people who would never fall in love under any normal circumstance, like a book banning dwarf and a basketball player who’s a bibliophile.  He’s been doing this stuff around this time of year for the last several years.  Pity.  Hopefully, this time Aphrodite will dole out some real punishment.”

                It’s been reported that two hours ago, Aphrodite reviewed the charges filed by Chief Ross’ office, and she has taken swift punitive action against Cupid.   He has been sentenced to six months in a halfway house for Cherubs and eighty hours of community service.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

 

 

 

 

                      Three days ago on the south side of WormHole Square, a velociraptor disguised as the Monopoly Man, attacked a groundhog, mere seconds after the groundhog came out of his burrow… on GroundHog’s Day.

                  “It’s an annual tradition,” said Phil Livingston, director of the Groundhog’s Day festivities.  He went on.  “Basically, we’re not sure what it means when a velociraptor disguised as the monopoly man, runs up and rips the ground hog into two unsightly, yet surprisingly symmetrical body parts.  The closest thing we’ve ever had to this was back in 1999 when a Prince impersonator tried to strangle the groundhog with a high E guitar string.  The good news was that the unconscious groundhog did not see his shadow and the Cherry Blossoms bloomed super early that year.  But this situation is unprecedented.”

                  Indeed, Mr. Livingston had to confer with the National GroundHog’s Day GrandMaster Director for an official interpretation of their peculiar circumstances.  After some calculations based on advanced meteorology, and divining rod readings by a vetenarian shaman who specialises in fractal penumbra interpretation, the only prediction that could be reached, was that the castaways on Gilligan’s Island would never get off the island due to incessant high tides.   Mr. Livingston then consulted a copy of The Farmer’s Almanac written in Latin, dating back to the 7th century.

                  “It was really hard to read that book, because it was in such an old language and because it had a lot of mustard stains on it,” Livingston said.  He continued.  “But the hardest thing to overcome was paying all of the overdue library late fees.  Once we did that we had the task of breaking down the book by separating it by weather forecasts, tuna casserole recipes, and Mel Brooks movie reveiws.  Luckily,  Amir, one of our interns, speaks several languages, including, Latin, Sanskrit, and up scale Hillbilly.  So with Amir’s translation we were finally able to come up with a better prediction based on the Groundhog Day velociraptor attack.”

                The GroundHog’s Day predictions were whittled down to several possible scenarios.   1.) Six more weeks of winter  2.)  Early spring  3.)  Locust plague with rain and hail that’s shaped like cabbage, but smells like old pennies.    4.)  Endless winter, constant snow with snowflakes made of cardboard confetti from God’s overfilled recycling bin.

          Happy Groundhog’s Day!

 

 

 

             Last night, WormHole Square Police were investigating the scene of multiple suspicious deaths a local nursing home.

                   “I have never seen anything like it in my twenty-five year career as a homicide investigator,” said Detective Sergio Spiggleman.  He went on.  “As of right now we’ve got several deaths at the crime scene, and the main suspect, so far, appears to be a lone ceiling fan.  Our preliminary investigation suggests that the ceiling fan possibly malfunctioned and that the fan blades began spinning out of control at speeds of over five thousand RPMs.  At which point, all but one of the fan blades came loose from the housing, striking multiple elderly victims as they were going about their daily routines.  The other theory suggests that the ceiling fan deliberately targeted the seniors in a act of revenge because or unpaid bingo gambling debts owed to him.”

                       The only fan blade that did not come loose from the housing was a witness to the entire tragic event and gave the detectives the details.

                 “Yeah, so the next thing I know, we’re doing like fifty, a hundred, two hundred, a thousand revolutions per – you know?” said Ralph, the fan blade.”  He continued.  “Now, that’s like a dangerous speed.  And I’m like – yo, what the fuck is happening!?  I look to my left and Paul has passed out, and then he comes loose and lands in Mr. Campbell’s back like a damn dart.  And then Mr. Jones took a fan blade to the chest as he’s finishing up a cup of pudding.  Then Mrs. O’leary took a fan blade to her dome while working on the same crossword puzzle she’s been working on since last August.  By the way, what’s an eight letter word for A FLEA’S MUSCLES?  Nobody knows.”

                   Police advise that there is still one ceiling fan blade that has not been accounted for, and have named it a person of interest in connection with this crime.

                        “We want to talk to this missing fan blade to see what he knows,” said Spiggleman.  He went on.  “We have unconfirmed reports that this missing fan blade may have assaulted several residents before fleeing the scene by cracking them on their knuckles, Catholic school nun style.   We’ve also been told that the fan blade committed property damage as well, by knocking over the AARP brochure stand, resulting in damages totalling $58.20.  We also have reports that this fan blade was last seen working as a kayak paddle up in the Adirondacks.  However, this information has not been confirmed at this time.”

                WormHole Square Police are asking anyone with any information on the whereabouts of the missing ceiling fan blade to call them on their semi-anonymous tip line.

 

           Last Tuesday night, at 7:48PM, Fridgita, a local WormHole Square snowwoman, gave birth to a full tray of ice cube babies, with Zeronious, her snowman husband, proudly by her side.

               “It’s a miracle,” Zeronious said.  He went on.  “Because I don’t actually have a penis or testicles.  I mean-I did have male genitalia at one time, but five years ago, I made the tragic mistake of putting a pack of hand warmers in my jock strap during a hockey game.  So, basically, Fridgita and I have never actually had sex.  Well, there was that one time we did that thing with our carrots, but I don’t think that’s how babies are conceived.  And now that I think about it, I was the one more on the receiving end than she was.  Other than that carrots are only good for eyesight.  So, again all I can say is that it must be a miracle!   Then again, there were those times when I saw our next door neighbor, Jack Frost, nipping at her nose… and her earlobes… and her neck… and her belly button… and her… hey, wait a fucking minute here!”

                    Yesterday, Zeronious petitioned to have a paternity test taken to determine if he is the father of the ice cube babies.   Earlier today Zeronious got the results and it was determined that he is the father.

                  “I’m a father!  Carrots… who knew?”

 

 

 

                        After many decades of living in obscurity, Tony Montana’s little friend finally got to say “hello” the way it was originally intended.

                  “Yeah, so Tony was in the middle of introducing me to everybody that fateful night, when all of a sudden all hell broke loose inside the compound,” said Tony’s little friend, Elsnore, a box turtle.  Elsnore continued.  “It was all a big misunderstanding, you feel me?  I was actually the little friend Tony was referring to, not the bazooka Tony was cradling so proudly.  And after Tony shot that missile through the bedroom door, well… everything just went haywire after that.”

                   Elsnore has been living an identity crisis filled life ever since, he said.

                 “I was originally hired by Tony to be an emotional support turtle.   Being a drug kingpin can be very stressful, you understand.  But over time,  I became more than just emotional support for Tony.  And he just wanted to introduce the world to me and show how much he appreciated all that I meant to him.  But then one night the opposing drug lord’s army came to the house and put an end to that, and my chance to say “hello” back to the world.”

               Elsnore pulled up several ounces of regret, but then continued.

            “Yeah, nobody believes that I was Tony Montana’s little friend.  They immediately dismiss me as a phoney, crackpot, name dropping terrapin.  But I was there when it all went down.   And then I lost everything.  My sense of self was gone.   And then I was left homeless after Tony’s bullet-riddled body fell into the fountain.  Try doing laps around a salt water, blood, and cocaine soaked environment.  It was tragic, you feel me?  So now that I have all of your attention, I just want this opportunity to say… HELLO.”

                     Last night, Stan, age unknown, scored the lowest point total in the history of game shows.  Things got a little heated on stage between host Roy and Stan as the latter began to take the low score personally.  The transcript excerpt below details some of what happened.

 

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT

HOST ROY: Okay, next question. Besides cheddar, swiss, or pepper jack, name a popular type of cheese?

Stan BUZZES in.

STAN:  ( thinks ) Ah… ( snaps his fingers )  Chucky Cheese.

HOST ROY: Ennnnnttt, no!  And once again your answer is demonstrably wrong.

STAN: What do you mean by that?

HOST ROY:  By what?

STAN:  That my answer is… “demonstrably” wrong.  You’ve been saying that all night.  Why can’t my answers just be “wrong”?

HOST ROY:  No reason.  Let’s continue, shall we?   Kingdom, Phylum, Order, Family, Genus, Species.  Name the omitted levels of animal taxonomic classification.

Stan BUZZES in quickly.

STAN: ( confidently ) 1040A and 1040EZ!

HOST ROY: Ennnnnttt, no!  And once again your answer is demonstrably wrong.

Gloria BUZZES in.

GLORIA:  That would be Class and Domain.

HOST ROY: Gloria, you are correct!

STAN:  ( to Roy ) See, there, you just did it again with the whole “demonstrably” wrong thing.   What’s up with that?

HOST ROY:  No reason.  Shall we continue?

STAN:  No, no, we shall NOT continue.  You’re trying to make a mockery out of me on national television like… I’m a some kind of monster – is that it?

HOST ROY:  No, it’s because we, literally, had a cryonically frozen corpse on the show last week, and he had a higher score than you.

STAN:  Well, everybody knows that cryonically frozen corpses are pretty smart, so…

GLORIA:  ( to herself )  I didn’t know that.

STAN: … I don’t feel no shame in that.  But again, it feels like you’re treating me like I’m some kind of monster.  Why?

HOST ROY:  No reason.  Let’s continue, shall we?   Next question… Who was the longest serving Monarch in British history ?

Gloria BUZZES in.

GLORIA:  That would be Queen –

Stan BUZZES in forcefully.

HOST ROY:  Not your turn, Stan.

STAN:  Queen Nefertiti!

HOST ROY:  Not your turn!  ( points at Gloria )  Gloria continue you answer, please.

GLORIA:  The answer is Queen-

Stan Buzzes in.

STAN: Queen Latifah, Roy!  The answer is Queen Latifah.

HOST ROY:  Not your turn, Stan!  ( points at Gloria )  Gloria continue your answer please.

GLORIA:  I’m sorry what was the question again?

STAN:  ( to Gloria ) British blue blood stuff, for God’s sake!   Pay attention!

GLORIA:  Oh, I remember now.  The answer is Queen-

Again Stan BUZZES In.

HOST ROY: ( points at Stan ) NOT your turn!

STAN:  Queen of Diamonds, Dairy Queen, and Steve McQueen on a Queen size bed!  And that’s a royal flush, Roy!

HOST ROY: Ennnnnttt, no, no, no, and hell no!  And once again your answers are demonstrably wrong!  Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong and WRONG!

STAN:  Fuck, this ain’t fair, man!  I’m a monster.  My brain is the size of an earwax pebble!  I didn’t go to school.  I spent all my childhood years hiding under children’s beds trying to scare the living shit out of them.  My guidance counselor never told me I needed to know stuff like this!  Why in the hell am I even here on this stupid-ass show anyway?!

HOST ROY:  Yes… why are you here, Stan?

STAN:  Enough with your trick questions, Roy!  Enough!

Stan walks off stage left.

STAN: Where’s the damn door out of this place?!

HOST ROY:  ( to Stan ) That’s the utility closet.

STAN:  ( off stage )  I know!

HOST ROY:  And we’re out of time!  And our winner is Gloria with a score of forty-seven thousand, five hundred.  Join us next week and meanwhile….

          Have a Demonstrably Merry Christmas!!

 

 

          Last week, Larry Jordan, 48, attempted to rake up leaves in his front yard by using a vacuum cleaner.  A regular household vacuum cleaner.  But after two hours of diligent vacuuming, he found his yard had even more leaves on it than before he had started.   And after the tree whom had been shedding these leaves mocked him, the two engaged in a bitter back and forth.  We have the following transcript of the exchange between Larry and the tree below.

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT

LARRY- ( to himself )  Why is this NOT working?!

TREE – Because you’re using a vacuum cleaner, dumbass.  Ever heard of a rake, genius?

Larry turns off the vacuum cleaner.

LARRY – Yes, I’ve heard of a rake.  Why don’t you mind your own business, Tree?

TREE – I produce leaves, Larry.  This IS my business!

LARRY – Well, why don’t you stop producing so many leaves?  All this work is hurting my back.

TREE – Well, why don’t you tell your dog to stop pissing on my kneecaps?  All that urine is giving my roots arthritis!

LARRY- Trees don’t have knees.

TREE – And Larry don’t have common sense!

LARRY- That’s it!  You have exactly one more time to insult me and I’m gonna-

TREE – You’re gonna do what… chop me down, turn me into firewood, send me to the paper mill?   You ain’t gonna do shit, Larry.  Because I’m over fifty years old and I’m protected by the WormHole Square Arboreous Society.

LARRY- Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that story before, let you tell it.

TREE – What… you don’t believe me?

LARRY- Let’s just say I’ve heard some things about you.

TREE – Things, what things?

LARRY – Things – you know, things.

TREE – C’mon, what kind of things, Larry?

LARRY – Alright… like how you’re not just a regular tree.

TREE – But I am just a regular tree.

LARRY – Oh really?  Well, it’s mighty suspicious how you just appeared in my front yard one day out of the blue.  Where did you come from?

TREE – ( defensive ).  You planted me, don’t you remember?

LARRY – Nah, nah, I never planted you.   I’ve only been living here for twenty years, and you just said yourself that you’re over fifty years old.  That don’t add up.  It must be true.

TREE – What must be true?

LARRY – That you’re hiding out from the mob. ( points at the tree )  You’re in the witness protection program.

TREE – ( hushed tone ) Okay, okay it’s true, alright.  But you can’t say anything, Larry.  Please, Larry, you gotta promise me you won’t tell nobody about what you know!  I mean – I’ve been good to you Larry, haven’t I?!

LARRY – What?

TREE – I mean- I give you shade in the summer, don’t I?

LARRY – Yeah… and all these fucking leaves in the fall.

TREE – Okay, okay, I’ll stop. ( praying hands ) No more leaves, I swear!

LARRY – ( considers ) Okay… I won’t rat you out.  But what did you… ?

TREE – Well… long story short… about ten years ago, I was involved with a gang of oak trees.  We was producing elicit acorns and dealing them to squirrels and whatnot.

LARRY – Whaaaaat?

TREE – Yeah… and anyways, we got busted.  Them Feds was talking about ten years minimum. What?!  Yo, I’ve got soft bark in the back.  I can’t do time.  I testified against my crew and got full immunity, and so they put me in WitSec.  Here I am.

LARRY – Wow, no shit?

Larry and the Tree look at each other momentarily.

Tree – So now what?

LARRY – So now back to these leaves. ( turns on vacuum cleaner )

TREE – ( to himself )  Dumbass.

 

 

 

               Yesterday, professional football player, Corey Jackson, 27, underwent a procedure to shrink his normal size head, down to a tiny head so that his new tiny head could fit into his tiny helmet.  Unfortunately, the procedure was unsuccessful.  In fact, instead of shrinking Corey’s normal head, the procedure actually enlarged Corey’s head three times its original size.

           “I’m not sure what went wrong,” said Dr. Wuba, who performed the procedure.  This was his initial comment.  And despite admitting he has dyslexia, and that he had partaken in three rounds of guava, gin, and juice, minutes before the procedure, Dr. Wuba assured his patient, Mr. Jackson, that all protocols had been followed to the letter.

            “I’ve been wearing this tiny helmet for five years now,” Mr. Jackson said.   “It’s really a tight fit, and it causes me problems when I wear it.  You know – like, headaches, dizziness, and the occasional hallucinations of purple gnomes building dams in the sky, made with wood from forsaken Ikea furniture.  Horrible.”  He went on.  ” So then I heard about Dr. Wuba and all his great work at the WormHole Square Institute of Head Shrinking and Angry Bunion Reduction.  So I decided to give him a try.  That turned into a big mistake.  Now my head is the size of a washing machine, and my life is now a living hell.”

            And despite Dr. Wuba’s assurances, WormHole Square conducted its own follow up investigation of his procedure, and found numerous violations of quality control protocols.

            “First of all, instead of working off of Mr. Jackson medical chart, Dr. Wuba had been referring to a recipe for Rice Krispy Treats,” said Mr. Bento, a writer at the WormHole Square NewsLike Blog.  He went on.     “Yes, Rice Krispy Treats are delicious, but any additional gluten or yeast during the head shrinking procedure can be highly problematic, according to the AMA Human Dome Reduction Institute.  Additionally, for some odd ritualistic reason, Dr. Wuba had repeatedly struck Mr. Jackson up side the head with a partially frozen goat leg during the procedure, while chanting the theme song from The Big Lebowski, which enhanced the head swelling.  And finally, Dr. Wuba’s medical license had already been revoked in WormHole Square due to past medical infractions such as, wearing unsanitary antelope belly skin mittens during medical procedures instead of latex gloves, and laundering Medicare payments into ox tail derivatives.”

              As of this post, Mr. Jackson continues to play football with his enlarged head inside that tiny helmet.