EVIL GLENN'S HEIST

(A FILTHY LIE)

Another Friday, another trip to Madfish Willie's Cyber Saloon to tip back a few cold ones and bask in the warm glow of cheerful cameraderie...

Harv: Hey, Bartender.

Bartender: Eat shit & die, you maggot-infested monkey-humper.

Harv: That's the nicest thing you've said to me in months.

Bartender: I've been reading "How To Win Friends & Influence People".

Harv: That WOULD explain your cuddly, bunny-like demeanor. Say, you seen Matty O'Blackfive in here?

Bartender: What do I look like? His f***ing personal secretary?

Harv: Nah. She's got bigger knockers & less ear-hair... Nevermind... I see him in the corner. Pour me a Guinness & bring it over.

Bartender: What do I look like? A f***ing bartender? I... wait... uh...

Harv: Work the formula, Einstein, I'll be Matty chattin'.

... I went to the dimly lit corner table where sat America's favorite drunken Irish paratrooper...

Harv: Hey, Matty.

Matt: Eat shit & die.

Harv: "How To Win Friends & Influence People"?

Matt: The Bartender loaned me his copy.

Harv: It's working wonders for ya. I've been here 10 seconds and you haven't said f*** once.... to tell you the truth, it's creeping me out a little.

Matt: That book's full of all kinds of weird stuff. For example, did you know that some people say... [checks book]... "please"... instead of "hurry up before I bust your f***in' chops"?

Harv: I thought that was just an urban legend?

Matt: Nope. Apparently it's a fairly common expression amongst people without military experience.

Harv: So... it's a French word?

Matt: You're thinking of "surrender".

Harv: Whatever. All this linguistical chit-chat's making me thirsty. Let me pull up a chair while I wait for the Bartender to bring my beer, and... [staring at empty glasses piled up on the table]... Matty, how long have you been here tonight?

Matt: About an hour.

Harv: That looks more like TWO hourse worth of your glassware. Somethin' bugging you?

Matt: My lucky box of Lucky Charms cereal is missing.

Harv: Your... what now?

Matt: Lucky box of Lucky Charms... Remember? I posted a picture of it last St. Patrick's Day?

Harv: Heh. Paddy O'Tatertot.

Matt: Yeah, well, it's missing now and I'm really bummed out about it.

Harv: Didn't you get that box from a CIA agent in Cambodia?

Matt: You're thinking of John Kerry's lucky hat.

Harv: John Kerry's Irish?

Matt: Irish Protestant, judging by his skin color. Anyway, it's missing.

Harv: That's just weird... Hey, speaking of missing, I can't seem to find my Johnny B. Bad $5 bill.

Matt: You mean that creepy-looking thing with Lincoln wearing an earring that you've got posted on your site?

Harv: It was my first piece of Graffiti Currency. It means the world to me. I searched all over the place. Can't find it anywhere. I don't know what to do.

Matt: Try drinking heavily. That always seems to solve MY problems.

Harv: And by a happy coincidence, here's the Bartender with my Guinness. Gimme that thing before I bust your f***in' chops.

Matt: He means "please".

Bartender: I didn't know Harv spoke French... By the way, have either of you doorknobs seen my lucky shot glass?

Harv: Matt, I think there's something strange going on here.

Matt: Yeah, the Bartender missed a perfectly good opportunity to use a form of the work f*** as an adjective.

Bartender: Skip the grammar lessons, Strunk & White. What're you getting at, Harv?

Harv: Don't you see? Matty's lucky cereal box, my cherished Graffiti Currency, your lucky shot glass - ALL missing at the same time? It CAN'T be just a coincidence! I think Evil Glenn is behind this.

Bartender: That's the STUPIDEST thing I've ever heard! There's not a SINGLE shred of evidence pointing towards Evil Glenn!

Harv: EXACTLY! The complete absence of evidence means he's OBVIOUSLY the perpetrator!

Bartender: ...Have you been watching Michael Moore movies again?

Matt: No, Bartender, he's right. You can't argue with his perfect logic.

Bartender: Perfect lunacy.

Matt: Come on, Bartender. It means we'll get to go on a road cruise in the Drunkmobile. I'll even let you drive.

Bartender: Well... as long as there's drunk driving involved, I don't see how I can say no.

Matt: Great! Then it's settled. TO THE DRUNKMOBILE!

Harv: Shotgun!

Matt: DOH!

... we stumbled into our beloved vehicle of alcohol-fueled vengeance and swerved insanely through the night towards Castle Glenn, hoping to discover why he had stolen our most precious belongings. A few hours later, with a screech of tires and the crash of impacted trash cans, we arrived on Instapundit's front lawn...

Harv: Nice stealth, Bartender. Why don't you just send up a flare while you're at it?

Bartender: Great idea!... [BANG! *FWOOSH*]... Now we can see where we're going.

Harv: Matt, I'm gonna sit here & shake my head in disbelief for a while. Meanwhile, you can explain "sarcasm" to this retarded sack of hammers.

Matt: Lay off him, Harv. If we run, we can still catch Glenn by surprise.

Bartender: Matt's right. It's not like our mission was broadcast hours in advance.

Harv: Well... I did put up a small "light blogging ahead due to secret mission to Evil Glenn's castle" post.

Matt: And I live-blogged the road trip.

Bartender [checks Instapundit.com]: "Heh. Looks like I'll be having company. Indeed."

Harv: That would explain the neon sign that says "Welcome Harv, Matty, and Bartender".

Matt: Enough belly-aching! Come on you apes! You want to live forever? Let's go get our shit back!

... We entered the castle, seeking Glenn's inner sanctum. Guided by Matty's eerily accurate, almost Spider-man-like ability to detect evil - along with numerous signs posted in the hallways that said "this way to diabolical trap" - we quickly arrived at our destination.

Evil Glenn: What the F*** took you guys so long?

Harv: Sorry. We decided to play rock-paper-scissors to see who'd buy the first round when we got back to the bar.

Evil Glenn: Which should take about 5 seconds!

Matt: We all kept picking "rock".

Bartender: Good old rock. Nothing beats that.

Evil Glenn: Indeed. Well, let me explain why I've tricked you into coming here tonight. At the dawn of time, certain ancient tribes worshipped dark gods of unspeakable power. Anthropologists differ in their explanation of...

Harv: Bored now.

Matt: I really don't want my box back badly enough to listen to THIS crap.

Bartender: Ditto. If I'd have wanted a history lesson, I wouldn't have dropped out of the 3rd grade. Let's go.

[all turn to leave]

Evil Glenn: WAIT!... Fine... you win... The short version is: I stole a precious object from each of you so that I could control you through the power of Voodoo and use you to destroy the Alliance of Free Blogs. But then I read the fine print on the ritual scroll and discovered that I needed blood from each of you, too, so I had to trick you into coming here in order to gather your precious life-fluids.

Harv: Bullshit! You didn't trick us into coming here. Accusing you was MY idea. I thought it up all by myself!

Evil Glenn: Subliminal message in that hardcore bondage porn movie you downloaded last night.

Harv: I... uh... don't know what Glenn's talking about... uh... but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to humor him...

Bartender: Wait a second... Voodoo?... I thought you worshipped Satan?

Evil Glenn: Satan? BAH! Why would I worship him? What's he ever done for ME?

Harv: Made you the untouchable Dominar of the Ecosystem?

Evil Glenn: I mean lately...

Bartender: He helped you win the lottery a couple weeks ago.

Evil Glenn: Lately, as in "today"...

Matt [noticing a nearby FedEx package]: He sent you a new inflatable sheep.

Evil Glenn: That's... uh... a gift for a friend!

Bartender: How come it has a blending attachment?

Evil Glenn: Just answer the question! What's Satan done for me in the last 10 minutes?

[silence]

Evil Glenn: I rest my case! After all the slaughtered hobos, I get NOTHING! He's abandoned me! He's the most feeble, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification of evil that ever...

Harv: Um... Glenn...

Evil Glenn: WHAT!

Harv: Maybe you shouldn't say that...

Evil Glenn: ...he's standing behind me, isn't he?

Bartender: Let's see, 20 feet tall, horns, hooves, pitchfork...

Matt: Could be Hillary...

Harv: Face isn't hairy enough.

Satan: SILENCE! SO... GLENN... WHAT'S THIS ABOUT NOT WORSHIPPING ME ANYMORE?

Evil Glenn: Uh... um... er... Look! I brought you some hobos!

Satan: DON'T F*** WITH ME, LAWYER! THESE MEN ALL HAVE HOMES AND JOBS!... ALTHOUGH PADDY O'TATERTOT IS A NEAR MISS ON THE BOOZING FRONT...

Matt: Hey!

Bartender [kicking Matt in the shin]: Shut up, Paddy! Don't interrupt the nice Prince of Darkness.

Satan: I FIND YOUR LACK OF FAITH DISTURBING, MR. REYNOLDS. YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!

Evil Glenn: So... I'm in deep shit, ain't I?

Satan: FUNNY YOU SHOULD SAY THAT... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

...with a snap of his black-taloned fingers, Satan disappeared in a cloud of sulfurous smoke. When it cleared, Glenn was nowhere to be found...

Harv: Bored now.

Matt: Even worse, we didn't get our stuff back.

Bartender: I'm NOT leaving here without my lucky shot glass. HEY! SATAN!

Satan [reappearing in a sulfurous cloud]: WHAT!

Bartender: Ya know, we didn't come all this way for nothing. I want my shot glass!

Harv: And I want my $5 graffiti bill!

Matt: And I want my box of Lucky Charms!

Satan: DO I LOOK LIKE THE F***ING WIZARD OF OZ? PISS OFF!

Bartender: Then you leave us no choice but to bind you into serving us by reading a passage from the Good Book... Matty?...

Matt: "The word "please" is your most important tool for winning friends and influencing people..."

Satan: NOOOOOOOOO! NOT "PLEASE"! I CAN'T STAND IT WHEN PEOPLE SPEAK FRENCH!

Harv: Actually, it's NOT Fren...

Bartender [kicking Harv in the shin and whispering harshly]: shut! up!

Satan: ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! HERE'S YOUR CRAP BACK! JUST RELEASE ME FROM YOUR SPELL!

Bartender: Ok, Matt, say the magic words.

Matt: "Eat shit & die, you maggot-infested monkey-humper".

... Satan disappeared in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, after which we gathered our belongings and high-tailed it back to the Drunkmobile. After half an hour of doing donuts on Glenn's front lawn (because it's FUN... duh!) we made our way back to Madfish Willie's for a beer and an epilogue...

Matt: Wonder what Satan meant by that "deep shit" remark?

Harv: Don't know... but on a completely unrelated topic, have you seen this story about a man who was so desperate to get his hands on a dog that he dove into a manure pit?

Matt: Interesting... yet I'm sure this story is completely unrelated to our recent adventure.

Bartender: Hey! Which one of you cheap bastards is gonna pay for these drinks?

[Matt, Harv, & the Bartender all look at each other in silence]

[IN UNISON]: One! Two! Three!.... ROCK!

INSTAPUNDO DELENDA EST!