Nonsense

Ladies and Gentlemen, this post is spoken for. I promised a friend of mine that the next post would be directly influenced by him. In order to protect his identity from the feral Chinese hackers who hate activists , I will not put his name, but instead use the much manlier Vagbar Korst. I will try to write this in a style different from my usual in the hopes that it will appeal to this non-named friend.

Vagbar studied manliness at the University of Man, on the Isle of Man. However, he was born so manly that he graduated on his first day of arriving, with a double-major in manthematics and philmanthropy. Accordingly, he was offered a teaching position at the university, but turned in down, as he didn't have enough time between wrasslin' alligators and boxing bears to teach. Every day he drank 3 jugs of cider, and every day he made important decisions in a confident manner.
Yes, Vagbar seemed to live a charmed life. According to the laws of manliness, which seemed to obey his every whim, he dominated in many areas.

But, his manliness came at a price. He was unabashedly aggressive. He had a tough, macho outer skin that hid his true, sensitive, unconfident, and unstable inner self. And, most tragically, he could not control that highest pinnacle of manliness, the hair on his chest.

"At this rate, he has only 9 days left to live" the doctor gravely said. Vagbar's many children, surrounding his bed, shuddered. Vagbar laughed. "His chest hair will slowly strangle him until he is unable to receive enough oxygen. And there is nothing we can do about it."

"But, can't you cut it, or tie it up somehow," a child asked.

"No, young Billy, we've tried diamond-plated chainsaws and we can't even make a dent, there is no hope. No. Hope."

Vagbar cackled at this. "Yar! When death comes, I'mma grab it by it's brittle little bones and use it's own leg to beat it. Then, I'mma take that tharn sickle and carve it an intricatedectedly (he sputtered on this polysyllabic word), intricitically- I'm gonna carve it a trashcan out of it's own bones, and put it's cloak inside, then use it as a thunderbucket!" Vagbar continued rambling, switching to even less coherent vocabulary until he was a murmur of thinly veiled threats against the grim reaper. A very manly vein of anger started popping from the side of his forehead.

8 days left. Vagbar hereby named them the 8 Days of Manliness, in which he would perform great feats of masculinity, until he defeated death as his ultimate feat. On the 1st day, he climbed Mount Everest, then jumped back to the bottom. Bored, and still with 18 hours left in the day, Vagbar proceeded to fight the mountain with one arm tied behind his back. He knocked the mountain into the pacific ocean with his left hook, and now we call that island Guam.

On the 2nd day, Vagbar wooed all of the women in the entire world, and then turned all of them down because none of them were strong enough to raise one of his children. He then had tea in the middle of the Saharan dessert, just because he could.

And so, Vagbar continued his 8 days of manliness, until every super-manly deed had been completed. He moved buildings, ate copious amounts of food and drink, wore differing types of cologne, and did incredibly foolish acts. He even forced himself into the dictionary, where his picture would be the definition for manliness for years to come. No, for eternity. No, for eternity + 1. His achievements would more than stand the test of time, they would define time.

Finally, his chest hair became too much for him, and he began to choke on that last day. Yet, his choke was manly! Wild animals all over the world heard his guttural cries and bowed their heads in his direction. Then, the moment of reckoning came. Death, on his black chariot, with his black, featureless dog, came riding towards him.

It came of wheels of pure destruction and fire! The brimstone carriage, with neatly trimmed curtains and racing decals, rushed forwards on a cushion of hot air. Death's bone-white smile, accented by all of the bones, widened.

"Finally, your time has come," it cackled. "We have been waiting for you for a long time."

"I gave your mother a long time!" Vagbar screamed his most manly of one-liners, and charged death's chariot.

{Warning, what happened here was so gruesome and manly that the author had to forgo description in order to maintain the sanity of his readers}

Vagbar held Death's pearly white fingers in one hand, while he felt the chill of its palm on his heart. He should have realized that death's leg, ripped off and used to beat it into submission, would have hidden rockets in the femur. It was Death he was dealing with, not any normal skeleton. That explosion temporarily disoriented him, and now here he was, with Death's hands on his heart.

"It's over, Vagbar, you are coming with me." The skeleton's raspy voice echoed in his skull. Vagbar hunched over, it appeared his energy was draining from his heart through death's hand. His mind churned back through the years, a flashback of epic, nay, god-like proportions. He thought about his toddler days, when he first started lifting weights in repetitive movements, like other manly men. Then, his pre-teen days, when he discarded books in favor of arm-wrestling lions. His teenage days, when he decided angst wasn't manly enough, and punched it in the gut, wounding it and giving 1/2 of the teenage population an identity crisis. He continued to think and ponder, until he realized he was drawing strength from his manly memories. He began to straighten, confident in his waxing strength. He grabbed Death's wrist and pulled it out of his chest. Then, he lifted Death and threw him into the chariot. The wheels, made of a polyurethane blend of destruction and fire, imploded with the strength of 3 atomic bombs. Minutes later, Death, regretting investing in the wheels made of a polyurethane blend of destruction and fire, landed on the ground next to Vagbar.

Vagbar looked down. "YARRRR! I win," he said. Death, too stunned to move, acceded. After awhile, it slowly crawled through the ground, back to the underworld.

Vagbar looked around. He didn't know where he was. The cold landscape around him was barren but for a few mountains in the background. Another dimension perhaps? In the end, it didn't matter, there was only one thing he knew; regardless of where he was, there were manly feats to be done, and he was gonna do them.

The, End