And now for the ongoing adventures of Koala Jones!
It was a Sunday, most weeks Jones spent Sundays basking on his patio snacking on Eucalyptus leaves, not today though. A phone call awoke him from his normal post-orgy sleep, he had to crawl through dirty women-strangers just to answer. “And who has me standing here buck naked at 11 AM talking on the phone?!” It was a distraught man going on and on about his missing father. The only thought that kept going through Jones’ mind was whether or not he used protection last night. He stared blankly at a mole on his palm wondering if it had always been there or if one of these women had given him something that needed urgent care. Suddenly, “So will you help me? Or do I need to call the police?” Without thought, or certainty of what had really been asked while he was distracted, Jones replied “You’ve have the wrong number, I’m not a detective.” The rest of the afternoon was spent planning his Monday… Jones’ had been paid to assassinate a CEO of an evil conglomerate.
Monday:
“I don’t want to pop this thing but if you don’t tell me the security code I’m afraid it has to go!” Koala Jones was extracting information from a security guard, he was a big man but one of his testicles was in a koala death grip. He gave Jones the information he was looking for, unfortunately that testicle still had to be removed. As Jones ran up a staircase desperate to pull of his mission on time he noticed a half eaten Snickers bar on the ground; he ate it. The CEO, Mr. Timmly, had security like the president of the United States of America. Koala Jones wasn’t much for hand to hand combat, that’s why his clients love him. In keeping with his reputation of being discrete Jones’ swallowed a lot of grenades, it’s hard to identify anything when you blow it to the Stone Age. The “pick up” went according to plan, now to hide his hostage until he received further demands from his client.
Tuesday (getting to know each other):
“I hope you like The Weather Girls, because no matter what the forecast, it’s always raining men.” These were the first words that Mr. Timmly heard while coming out of a dream. Looking around he couldn’t place if he was in a basement or if he was in an attic, either way it smelled heavily of ammonia. “What’s that smell? Where am I? What the f*** is that smell?!” Mr. Timmly asked. He was being hidden in Koala Jones’ poop room, the other rooms had sleeping women fresh off a Monday night orgy and they could not be disturbed. “I’m sorry I had to put you in my poop room, I had no where else to put you. Mayonnaise?” Though he declined the mayo, Mr. Timmly questioned why a Koala had kidnapped him and what he wanted. Jones replied “Well, it appears you’re an adulterer, your wife doesn’t think much of that. She is paying me a lot of money to send her pictures of you being tortured. So, I’m going to play this Weather girls song until you beg me to stop. Then, when I feel you’ve truly had enough, I’m going to put on the entire series of Friends and you’ll watch every episode.” Confused Mr. Timmly asked “And after that I can just go?” Koala Jones responded “No, then she wants a picture of you dead. Enjoy this song and enjoy the series.”
Wednesday:
Koala came into the room, he pooped, then he left. Mr. Timmly was still enjoying the song It’s raining men. Unrelated: Nothing good came on The Movie Channel that night, nothing good ever comes on The Movie Channel.
To be continued... with car crashes, laxative drinks and more sex than you can shake a stick at. Check back soon.
Peaces
It was a Sunday, most weeks Jones spent Sundays basking on his patio snacking on Eucalyptus leaves, not today though. A phone call awoke him from his normal post-orgy sleep, he had to crawl through dirty women-strangers just to answer. “And who has me standing here buck naked at 11 AM talking on the phone?!” It was a distraught man going on and on about his missing father. The only thought that kept going through Jones’ mind was whether or not he used protection last night. He stared blankly at a mole on his palm wondering if it had always been there or if one of these women had given him something that needed urgent care. Suddenly, “So will you help me? Or do I need to call the police?” Without thought, or certainty of what had really been asked while he was distracted, Jones replied “You’ve have the wrong number, I’m not a detective.” The rest of the afternoon was spent planning his Monday… Jones’ had been paid to assassinate a CEO of an evil conglomerate.
Monday:
“I don’t want to pop this thing but if you don’t tell me the security code I’m afraid it has to go!” Koala Jones was extracting information from a security guard, he was a big man but one of his testicles was in a koala death grip. He gave Jones the information he was looking for, unfortunately that testicle still had to be removed. As Jones ran up a staircase desperate to pull of his mission on time he noticed a half eaten Snickers bar on the ground; he ate it. The CEO, Mr. Timmly, had security like the president of the United States of America. Koala Jones wasn’t much for hand to hand combat, that’s why his clients love him. In keeping with his reputation of being discrete Jones’ swallowed a lot of grenades, it’s hard to identify anything when you blow it to the Stone Age. The “pick up” went according to plan, now to hide his hostage until he received further demands from his client.
Tuesday (getting to know each other):
“I hope you like The Weather Girls, because no matter what the forecast, it’s always raining men.” These were the first words that Mr. Timmly heard while coming out of a dream. Looking around he couldn’t place if he was in a basement or if he was in an attic, either way it smelled heavily of ammonia. “What’s that smell? Where am I? What the f*** is that smell?!” Mr. Timmly asked. He was being hidden in Koala Jones’ poop room, the other rooms had sleeping women fresh off a Monday night orgy and they could not be disturbed. “I’m sorry I had to put you in my poop room, I had no where else to put you. Mayonnaise?” Though he declined the mayo, Mr. Timmly questioned why a Koala had kidnapped him and what he wanted. Jones replied “Well, it appears you’re an adulterer, your wife doesn’t think much of that. She is paying me a lot of money to send her pictures of you being tortured. So, I’m going to play this Weather girls song until you beg me to stop. Then, when I feel you’ve truly had enough, I’m going to put on the entire series of Friends and you’ll watch every episode.” Confused Mr. Timmly asked “And after that I can just go?” Koala Jones responded “No, then she wants a picture of you dead. Enjoy this song and enjoy the series.”
Wednesday:
Koala came into the room, he pooped, then he left. Mr. Timmly was still enjoying the song It’s raining men. Unrelated: Nothing good came on The Movie Channel that night, nothing good ever comes on The Movie Channel.
To be continued... with car crashes, laxative drinks and more sex than you can shake a stick at. Check back soon.
Peaces
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