I know the title is bad; and for that I deeply apologize, yet I but also refuse to change it. My update today is about something very serious and important, and requiring your total attention if you wish to stay alive in the coming future battle for planet earth.
If you have a belt or a piece of wood, please put it into your mouth so you don't accidently bite off your tongue: I must reveal something to you now, and you must brace yourself for a bit of a shock. You have known me for years, so I can understand if you will feel somewhat betrayed by what I am about to say. But first, recline your seat to a 90-degree angle if possible. Take your shoes off and dip them in a tub of salt water, heated to 70 degrees and free of all sea horses. Are you ready? Here we go: I, Reid Baron Von Paskiewicz III, have red hair. I am a redhead.
I know, it's terrible. This was not my choice; I was born this way. A horrid curse, a crimson blight, for some terrible unknown crime that my ancestors committed long ago. My skin is as pale and waxen as a corpse, dotted here and there with loathsome freckles. My ruddy cheeks are plump with an unfathomable whiskey induced rage. I hide from the hurtful rays of the sun by covering my body in moist moss and peat, only coming out at night to feed on newborn babies. I reek of turnips, rotting potatoes, and decayed flesh, the latter from the small creatures that get tangled in my curly red back hair and struggle in futility as miniature suckers protrude from my skin and drain their blood. Mobs of villagers, sick of their livestock being slaughtered, chase me with torches and pitchforks, never letting me have a moment's rest. This is the nightmare that is my life.
But I am not alone with my burden. There are hundreds, even thousands of us out there. We are scuttling under the city streets in the dark sewers, swinging along vines in forgotten primeval jungles, playing nickel slots at the Circus Circus in a haze of yellow smoke, and waiting in every major metropolitan area in the world. Waiting for a moment when the time is ripe to rise up from our unfortunate position in this hypocrisy we call "civilization", and take the reigns of power for ourselves. We will be legion, like a fiery haired Voltron of vengeance. A juggernaut of freckles and justice that will stomp over anything in it's path in an unstoppable frenzy, unless it's really sunny and then the Red Voltron has to find some shade so it doesn't get burned. If it's a totally cloudless day, then the revolution has to be postponed until some bad weather rolls in.
Speaking of the angry yellow face that hurts us, when I was 11 years old, I visited a pool with a water slide at a park near my house. All of the neighborhood kids were there for a fun day of frolic under the summer sun, splashing away with no cares in the world. My mother had always told me "You are an abomination! The sun will melt you if you try to defy your nature and mix with normal children. Get back in the closet!" She was right, but I so dearly wanted to be a normal child that could romp with my peers and have fun. I snuck out of the locked closet with the help of my faithful cat, Professor Pudding, and went to the pool anyway with no layers of fabric between my pale white belly and the sun's scorching rays. When I arrived the lifeguards tried to keep me away so I wouldn't contaminate the water with my red hair, but I snuck in after scaling the lightly electrified fence around the perimeter. The children gave me strange looks and distanced themselves from me at first, but after seeing that I posed no threat, they accepted me into their watery games. For the first time in my life I felt normal and happy. For hours I went down the water slide, laughing and giggling, oblivious to the grave danger I was in. When I returned home, I was as red as a lobster. Waves lines of radiation streamed off my body. My mother was furious at me for disobeying nature's plan and tossed me in the dry well full of bibles to think about what I've done. The next day I was covered in horrible blisters where the sun had touched me with it's poison rays. I had to go to the emergency room and get covered in creams and lotions while the doctor berated me for being a redhead. It was the worst day ever, and I quickly learned my lesson that I shall never be a normal human, and will be forever shunned to the dark places of this world.
Heck, maybe the world would be a better place without redheads. In my research for this update I found some startling facts about our history, and how it has changed the course of mankind. Sometimes for the better, but most of the time for the worse. I'll list some of the most extraordinary findings, and you can be your own judge.
GREAT MOMENTS IN REDHEAD HISTORY
Judas betrays Christ for 30 pieces of Silver: Judas, a redhead, was tired of being picked on by the other apostles because of his differences. They would always jest that he was a bastard Gaul, and often put scorpions in his sandals while he was sleeping. The desert sun only increased his temperament, and while in a classic redheaded temper tantrum, he sold out his savior for 30 pieces of silver and spent it on a really cool bike and a bag of beetle crisps. As punishment from God, the beetle crisps had gone bad and Judas had a serious case of the runs the next day. When asked about it by John, Judas said "It was totally worth it man."
The Spanish Inquisition: While its common knowledge that the Spanish Inquisition started in 1456 to rid Spain of the devil that had embodied sinful men, women, and redheads, we know little about who started all of the madness. It was a man named George O'Callaghan who was so angry at God for making him a redhead that he lashed out and decided to purge the earth of his red brethren. In a twist of irony, the wind blew his inquisitor cap off during a sermon and he himself was burned at the stake.
The Great Chicago Fire: A redhead threw a match in Misses O'Leary's barn. Whoops!
Assassination of Franz Ferdinand: A group of redheads, sick of being the laughing stock of Serbia, created a gang called the "Black Hand." Franz Ferdinand, a chubby Austrian with a special dislike for redheads, was visiting the capital on a goodwill trip, and explained how Germany would help Serbia with it's overpopulation of redheads by exporting them by train to work in the Fatherland's coal mines. The Black Hand assassinated Ferdinand for this statement, and it set events in motion the started the world wars, and the death of millions of people, as well as the popular flavor of ice cream, mint chip.
Carrot Top eats a kitten on Pay-Per-View: The patron saint of redheads the have evolved into otherworldly monsters who threaten the existence of all life forms, Carrot Top shocked the world when eating a kitten live on Pay-Per-View. A million households paid $49 each to see this stunning act that has been called "the worst thing that has ever happened, ever".
The Indian Ocean Tsunami: New evidence of this recent disaster has show that the root cause of the great tsunami that killed 150,000 people and caused vast amount of damage was actually caused by a single redhead that was "just dicking around" in the center of the Indian Ocean. When asked if he felt bad about causing this wave that caused horrible suffering and carnage, he said "sorry, I just got a little carried away". This has prompted the UN to impose a ban on any redheads frolicking in major oceans. A similar ban of redheads in Midwest cornfields was put into place by the US last year after a flurry of heavy tornado activity.
Do not panic, there is no fleeing from us for we have tiny wings on our feet that allow us to fly, albeit very slowly at around 5 mph, but flying nevertheless. Throughout history we have always tried our best to be accepted, but the fear and mistrust people have for us had made us bitter with mutual hate. Yes we are cursed, ruddy mutants, but we are still humans, and we will fight for our respect. We will rise one day, and all you will see will be red. Not the red of our hair, but of your own blood running down the streets and alleyways was we march into the halls of power and take our rightful place. But all of this isn't until 50 years from now so don't worry too much about it, ok? Goodnight and God bless.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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