For most of the time we have known each other, I have sent e-cards to my husband Paul. Not one has been normal. I have always sought to embellish e-cards with my own brand of madness by parodying the picture with the text. Since discovering greetingsdepot.com, I have not gone anywhere else. The site and its contents are infinitely easy to make fun of.
The site has a few technical problems. As of this writing, I can't get the root URL to open in Netscape, and every other time I snoop through the site there's one of a wide variety of bugs in the system. I send my text in email to Paul because I have never successfully gotten Greetings Depot's CGI to pass it through. But it's not the worst-working website in the world. And it is not the main focus of the humour. (It does, however, provide a few nice cheap shots.)
By my standards - and I am fully aware that I speak as an ignorant North American - everything on the site is weird. Damned weird. I believe Greetings Depot is Russian, and there is something about everything- the drawing, the animation, the unfamiliar customs and Westernly-nonexistant holidays- that strikes me as bizarre. Mostly funny bizarre, though some of the cards are so strange I don't know what to do with them. (Good example: the Stop Using Drugs section.)
Much
of the charm of the Cats
section of Greetings Depot is that it's rather amateurishly cartooned.
(The artist has improved a lot lately. Damn!) Better, it's badly animated;
the characters' motion makes you wonder what the hell it is they're trying
to convey. Is
that a tree, or that guy's hair...? And should you figure it out, you'll
wonder why the hell they wanted to convey it. It's all a cultural gap.
I hope.
Ingmar |
Age: 10
Ingmar is of widely variable aptitude, but he is the gentlest soul one
could wish to meet. His mother, an explorer, wandered into the Cave of
Mysterious Death, which everyone knows is just a fancy way of asking for
a divorce, when Ing was little. His father has been taking care of him
since. He is a loyal friend when not under malicious hypnotic power, and
loves to explain things to the audience. In fact, when he grows up, he
would like to be a plot point.
|
Lars |
Age: 11
The only daughter of a powerful and influential family of waste disposal
engineers, Lars is extremely intelligent and capable, but also stuck up.
Her given name is Sophia, but she detests it. Her hair changes often, she
usually has on some new article of clothing, and her whims are well indulged.
Whenever she is with Ing, she is either abusing him or beating someone
up for abusing him (that's her job.) There is no word yet on whether she
has inherited her mother's powerful psychic abilities.
|
Horst |
Age: 6
Horst has grown recently, but he's still the youngest in the group.
He's generally quiet, and when he speaks, he is concise and plain, and
speaks good English. Thus, most of the kids in his class think he's weird.
He's unusually mature for his age and very introspective. Horst has two
older brothers.
|
Ingmar's Dad |
Special announcement: Hey ladies, I'm single!
But don't think that Ingmar's Dad is merely a lonely, desperate man.
Well, he is. But he is also an intensely dutiful father. He makes money
any way he can, and provides his son with all the love, emotional support,
and okra that a child needs. Ing would love to see his father find someone.
|
Barely Legal Belinda |
Barely Legal Belinda runs the local house of ill repute. She has a short temper, but she is generous to her staff and has their unquestioning loyalty. It was through her that I learned that my e-mail client regards "hooters" as a naughty word of the caliber of "fuck," and "hooters" has since been used to artificially escalate I&L emails to the "three chili pepper" level of profanity. Hooters, Belinda. Hooters. |
Athena, Goddess of Wisdom |
Athena inadvertantly gave life to the anthropomorphic race of cats who live in Ing and Lars' mountain village. You'd look like this too, if you had. |
The Episodes
All the captioning was cut off. ;p ;p ;p ;p Bah. That was the whole point. I wouldn't send you a card like that without twisting it horribly, 'cause I love you. ^_^
Trying it again...
"Hallo, I am Ingmar. And this is my platonic kitty friend Sophia, but we like to call her Lars! See how she looks like Smurfette?"
"Ja, I am too young to bear offspring. Teacher said so."
"Oh look, the venomous mountain pansies are flitting about ourselves."
"I thought they sprayed for those!"
"Hastily, Lars! I will beat back the flowers with this URL that somebody left here on the ground. You must run to alert the magistrate!"
"Eee! I am stung! oooh... swirly purple..." [thud]
"Heck on a stick! Lars has bought the dairy! I must flee..."
Well, whaddya think? ^_^
(Candy's eyes go wide and she bolts out the door, inches in front of you and a straitjacket)
I love you. ;)
Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000 11:06:42 -0700
Subject: The return of the Ingmar and Lars Show!
Forgot to send this one. ^_^
<Made possible, and difficult, and bizarre by greetingsdepot.com, where our motto is, "CGI doesn't have to pass your message text through to be cool!">
"Welcome again to Ingmar and Lars! Here we are with our buddy Horst on the finest Chinese-style kibbutz in our town. It is time for the annual apple-blinking, and we are all working sweatily! I even had to remove my shirt. Not to Lars' dismay, I am certain."
"You wish, Ing. Pick that apple! You've blinked at it plenty!"
<garbled backward speech>
"By my grandfather's digestive tract!"
"Turn the apple backwards, Ingmar!"
"Eat your vegetables... and brush after every meal..."
"You know what this means-!"
"This apple is the earthly reincarnation of Slim Goodbody?"
"Ooh, let me step on it!"
"Not so speedily, Horst. It speaks again!"
"You are under my power..."
"I am under the apple's power..."
"You will terminate the grey-haired one and the girl..."
"I will signify the end of the SCSI chain upon the grey-haired one and the girl..."
"Then you will bring me croissants and whole milk-"
"AHA! Exposed, foul fruit! You are not Slim Goodbody!"
"Well, smart you. If I was I'd be wearing a jumpsuit with seeds airbrushed on it. Actually, I was a herpetologist in North Dakota. Now then... Kill. Kill! Kill!"
"Enough of this!"
<WHACK!>
"Lars! What are you doing?!"
"I hope, giving stupid Ingmar even more head damage. Pick that apple, Horst! We're going to bathe Ing's brain wound in the traditional salve."
"Yay, applesauce!"
"Nooooooo!"
Date: Sat, 09 Sep 2000 11:12:43 -0400
Subject: The Ingmar and Lars Show 3
Here we have Lars' parents. Her father is a respected weightlifter;
her mother is an even more respected psychokinetic waste disposal technician.
Here, as a lark, she demonstrates her mental vaporizing power on Dad's
barbells.
Date: Sat, 21 Oct 2000 14:50:51 -0400
Subject: Ingmar and Lars: Toenail Festival
A heartworming holiday tale in the spirit of every ultracommercialised Christmas cartoon ever made.
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1350
(Ingmar and Lars are watching their favorite TV show, Laverne
and Shirley in the Army.)
[Candy's note: To make up for the direct link without
permission, which wasn't an issue in email, I'll suggest checking out toontracker.com.
So sweet. So very sweet.]
"I love this! It's so much like real life. By my uncle's parallel ports, Ing! Why so glumpish?"
"My father is having a joyless amount of luck in his business."
"Oh, selling Dreamcast emulators for Game Boy?"
"Now he says we will be unable to have a toe this season!"
"Oh no, Ingmar, you're being hypoglycemic!"
"I wish I were. There will be no Toenail Festival for me and my paternus." [smack] "Ow! What was that for?"
"You deserve abuse for being so easily beaten down, Ing! In some manner we will save your Toenail Festival!"
"But, dramatic pause, how?"
(Needs Flash: http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1350 )
"Hello, all you good citizens and your adorable larvae! Krazy Klaus invites you to buy festive toes at little or no deductible! Look at this one behind me in durable mock polystone!"
"That's it!"
"What?"
"Idiot. Don't make me use exposition!"
"Uh..."
"Very well... we'll get a discount toe and nail set from Krazy Klaus. They might even be slightly irregular!"
"Don't raise my hopes until they get caught in the bathroom fan, Lars. I have no money. Won't we need to embark on a sugar-laden quest to raise funds until everything goes awry and some kindly child predator who turns up to be a fictional holiday symbol gifts us with the toe?"
"No. I snitched my mother's credit card."
"Let's go!"
And so, Ingmar's Toenail Festival is saved. Tune in again!
"Hello, NTSC-compliant friends! I am Ingmar, and have been for several hours at least. Note my stylish and festive Yankees hat!" Please assist me in cheering for my paternal unit as we host his latest and largest prospective bonk-toy, and her slightly odd daughter. She doesn't seem normal, like me and Lars."
"Mr. Ingmar's Father, you certainly have lovely blue-tinted dining room walls!"
"Thank you, my aspartame. Please, try the curlew. I hand-roasted it on the town radio tower!"
"Oh, Mr. Ingmar's Father, you're such a lark... Daughter! Stop that bizarre seat-swiveling! Oh, you'll have to excuse her... her father snorted mercury back in the nineties."
"Hello, weird step-sister-elect, I am still Ingmar. Why are you polishing our chair?"
"Shh! Don't you see it?"
"Only when Father forgets to lock that channel out."
"Look! If I do this, I can trick out the Flash animation!"
"That is the last swizzle stick, young woman! Until you learn to take the universe we exist in seriously, without damaging its extremely temperamental and slipshod inner workings, you may wait in the car!"
"FINE!!" <slam>
"You know, I sometimes wish Father would just subscribe to naughty websites or something..."
Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2000 20:52:52 -0500
Subject: The Ingmar and Lars Show: Ing's First Love
"There is a terrible legend in our village. It is a legend about a beauteous yet evilous female. She lives upon a compact-sized cumulous cloud and drops sweets to attract young boys whose hormones are just growing in. Then she appropriates them, and they are never inappropriate again..."
"Ingmar, why are you talking to yourself? Indulging in exposition again?"
"Er.. no, Lars, no reason."
"Well then, move with all the haste of an irregular cheetah. You promised we'd go treble fishing."
"All right, let's journey!"
[ the fishing hole ]
"I've caught bass, but no trebles. Today's fishing is unpleasant. Watch my line while I nap, Ing?"
"But La- Splendid, she's asleep. Now what? I'm bored. Eh? What's that tintinnabulation?"
"Iiiiiiiiignmar....."
"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?"
"Come to me, Ingmar. Come with me and lead a life of lollipops and innuendos..."
"Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"You may call me Vapidia, Ingmar, and I know the names of all freakish little cat-boys. Step up with me on my cloud and have some jujubes and Milk Duds. Come now..."
"Jujubes...." =@_@=
"Come, Ingmar my sugar-drop. Closer to me..."
"Zzzt... Jewish bees? Whaz... By my aunt's larynx! INGMAR!!!"
"What's that sound?"
"Nothing important, Ingmar. Come closer. Turkish delight, turkish delight..."
</narnia>
"Ingmar! Wake up! It's me, Lars!"
"Keep coming, Ingmar. Come to me. Vapidia. Vapidia..."
"...and it's treatable!!" [WHIP!]
"Aah! Little wretch. Get this disgusting fishhook off me!"
"I'm the only one qualified to call Ingmar that! Begone, winch!"
"He is mine and, if I may make a leading statement begging to be violently refuted, how will you stop me?!"
"With this- my lunch! Papa's homemade chili and Spam kugel! With extra-salty gravy."
"Nooooooo-" [implosion sound]
"Are you intact, Ingmar?"
"Yes, Lars, but I wish she hadn't scampered away. Were you worried about me a bit?"
"Y- Shut up, Ing, I was just worried about the money you owe me. Now watch my fishing pole, I'm gonna go back to sleep."
"Oh... Okay, Lars. [pause] Lars, why are your eyes still open with that thought-ridden look?"
"Oh. Uh, no reason, Ing. Good night."
C.
Date: Sat, 09 Dec 2000 16:36:46 -0500
Subject: The Ingmar & Lars Show: Lars Gets a Job
Please do not think that Ing and Lars' hometown is populated overwhelmingly
by children. While the cats love their offspring and lavish on them childhood's
greater joys, like gelatin-lined underwear and trips to the exploding golf
range, not all entertainment in town is for kids.
"Lars, I don't object to saying, this spinach-teriyaki ice cream is first school!"
"Thank my matriarch, she wears the pants in the family."
"Yes, speaking of which, how's your dad's lower-body frostbite?"
"He's much more well, but I wish Mom would share the pants, and I wish I got more financial allotment."
"You get five nunavuts a week, Lars. You shouldn't grouse! I have to mow my neighbor's rugs for my exploding golf money."
"Hey. Look at that sign!"
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1649 (Flash)
"'Barely Legal Belinda's - Her Hooters Heave High, without any wires! Now hiring waitress-entertainers.' Well, how hard can it be to entertain a waitress?"
"Most egregious! Let's apply to Barely Legal Belinda!"
(Ing and Lars run to the manager's office, where Belinda is doing a bit of paperwork on her floating beanbag)
"Greetings! I am Ingmar and this is my platonic friend Sophia, but everyone calls her Lars."
"Ja, I am too young to-"
"That is accurate. You came seeking gainful disdain?"
"Yes. Are you Barely Legal Belinda?"
"Assuredly, just as my birth certificate indicates. But I am scared that I do not have work to heap upon you. My line of work caters to those over the age of a two-to-one majority."
"Well, why can't we do the work for your grown-up cohorts?"
"Well, I... well, why not? I am open to giving you some probability. You may clear the tables. Who knows, some of my clientele may even get off on it."
"YAY!"
(Time passes; Ingmar and Lars work the tables. Meanwhile, Ing's Dad is sitting near the front, trying to drown his troubles in Cognac and Tang.)
"Oh, why won't females sleep with me? Perhaps the boy intimidates them..."
"Ooh! Look, Ing, I made six nunavuts in tips already! How are you doing?"
"I made nine, but I don't like this skirt."
"Oh, stop being such a whiney-face. You made more than me, and additionally, everyone can tell you're a boy!"
"Are you sure? I dislike the way that fellow looks at me..."
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1635 (Flash; icky-poo alert)
"Perhaps he's just concerned about the piece of Fruit Roll-Up hanging out of his mouth. Let's get back to work!"
"Hey! It's my dad! Hallo Dad!!"
"Ingmar?! What in the name of my father's pantyhose are you doing here?!"
"I've decided to enter the glorious life of a showgirl, Dad! Lars thought of it!"
"I'll dismember her. This is no place for men of honor to be!"
"Uh, Dad... then why are you here?"
(dramatic pause)
"You're right, Ingmar. How hypothetical of me. I cannot forbid you to be employed somewhere if I cannot forbid myself to patronize it. I apologise, son."
(Creepy Guy ambles over to Ingmar and Dad)
"Don't hog all the young boys, Pops. C'mon, kid, want some jujubes?"
"That's my son, you rectum!"
"Jeesh, you ARE a sicko."
"I'll show you sick! Hit on my son, will you, you illegitimate child of a donkey! Eat that!"
"Wow! Go, Dad! Bruise his gluteus!"
"What's going on here? Brawling in my burlesque, eh? Your son, eh? You two are fired!"
"But I don't work here."
"Not you, stupid. Him and the girl. Out!"
(It is evening. Ingmar, Lars and Ingmar's Dad are all walking home.)
"I don't believe we got fired, and I only got six-"
"Not another syllable, Lars. I won't work for any place that tosses my Dad out."
"Thank you, Ingmar son, I love you."
"How'd you learn to open a container of whoop-ass like that, Dad?"
"It's a very interesting story. First, I was in the local navy..."
"That finishes it. I'm definitely going to hit Mother up for a raise."
Date: Tue, 09 Jan 2001 21:58:07 -0500
Subject: The Ingmar & Lars Show: Every Cartoon Show Has to Have
a Time Travel Episode, And Nobody Does Episodes Like
"It is assuredly a beautiful day, even for blustery January."
"It's March, you waffle-snorter."
"The time-stamp on the email says January."
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/sendcard.xhtml?cardid=1043
"Look up, Ingmar. Remember that when the rest of the world is mired in January we enjoy March."
"And vice versa!"
"Ah, now I remember what I had previously dismembered. Many gratitudes to you, fellows."
"Lars, what makes our time so advanced?"
"A querious questioning, Horst. Do you see the majestic swirling nexus that we conveniently have happened to walk right up to?"
"No..."
"Look forward, Horst."
"OH! Yeah!"
"That's the Time Twaddler, right, Lars?"
"Correct for once, Ing. The Time Twaddler assures us comfortable, restful time, set ahead by two months and behind by two years, so that we are not crowded in normal time by everybody else in the world."
"I hope it's Y2K compliant!"
"Lars, what if I were to poke the Time Twaddler?"
"Well, I heard that if you prod it it makes heavy breathing noises. But if you stick your whole body into it it's purported to take you on a whirlwind tour of the past and future."
"Sounds boring. Let's hear it pant instead!"
[poke poke poke heave heave FWOOSH]
"AAAAA! Freak wind!"
"We're getting shoved in!"
"How predictaaaaaaa....."
"....aaaaaaaaaa-"
[blort!]
"-ble."
"Where have we blorted to?"
"We must be in another time, just as the Time Twaddler is fabled."
"Look at these strange creatures roaming the streets."
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1414
"What the hell is that sick looking thing?"
"I don't- oh! Look, Lars!"
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1150
"Those are the primitive antecedents of our race that Teacher told us about."
"Weren't they called Monkeys?"
"Yes, and one looks just like me! She has my skin color."
"Me too, one has my hair! Maybe he's my Grandpa that ran away from the war!"
"How come that other one doesn't look like me?"
"Well, it's just possible that you suck, Ing."
"Why, you trout!"
"Shut up! Something's chasing them!"
"It's hideous! What's it trying to do?"
"Eat da kitties! Eat da kitties! Kitty mud pie!"
"At least it's intelligent."
"No time to aerate our gingival areas, guys. We must rescue our ancestors!"
"Wait. What are they saying?"
"We've lost her. Thank goodness. What's with that freaky kid?"
"She probably craves attention."
"I think she was dropped on her freaking head!"
"That too."
"Still, she keeps catching us. Catching... all of us..."
"Easy there, Joe. We know you loved Carla."
"She's not Carla anymore! She's a fucking mud pie! Oh, why did it have to happen to her?"
<Candy watches MoodWatch suddenly go from nil to max, shrugs, and continues>
"What can we do? As screwed up as the kid is, she has the clear advantage of human intelligence."
"Sadly, you're right. We, as non-simians, simply can't pit our instinct and moderate intellectual capacity against her innate abilities."
"Carla! Mud! CARLA!"
"Do not lose heart, animals."
"What? Another human?"
"No. I am Athena, goddess of wisdom. I have heard your pleas and seen your plight. You wish intelligence?"
"Great goddess Athena, for our survival, we wish to be as intelligent and wise as the human who torments us!"
[pause]
"Er, that's-"
"Please, Athena! We will swear to use our intelligence only for defense and to do good works with it! Please, please grant us equality with our foil; it is all we need!"
"But-"
"We beg you, sweet Athena! We shall genetically engineer enormous mice and offer them at your temple! We are but common animals, unaware of our own mortality and futility! We will sacrifice our innocent simplicity for the wisdom of this human! Oh please Athena!"
(sigh) "You asked for it, cats."
[poof]
"Oh kittie-widdies! The oven's all warm and cozy! What the..."
"Oh, look at how small the alley has become!"
"EEEE! Freak cats!"
"That's rude. Let's ingest her!"
"I'd rather redecorate this drabby alley with a little nice argyle print!"
"AAAAAAA!"
"Wow, Lars. It's the birth of our race!"
"Yes. And we became numerous and spread throughout the city!"
"Sniff... this is the most beautiful event I have ever witnessed..."
"Look. The Time Twaddler is pulsating."
"It beckons us. Come on, boys. On to the present!"
"Stepping throooooooough!"
"Now where are we?"
"Oh no. We're not in the Vaccination Villa again, are we?"
"No, you muffler. We're in a bar."
"Yay! I want a daiquiri!"
"Horst, you're too young. Wait 'til you're six."
"Fudge!"
"Excuse me, madame, I am the handsome Ingmar, and these are my platonic friends. Why are you passed out on your table?"
"Gasp! It's the goddess Athena!"
"Go 'way. I'm drinking away the cats."
"Cats? What is cats?"
"Aeons ago I set out to bestow wisdom on a small group of unfortunates. What a mockery. They turned... into..."
"-Us! And we are so gratified, Athena! May we give you a hug?"
"And call you Mommy?"
"And mooch the car keys?"
"AAAAAH!!!"
[WHAM!]
"She knocked us through the portal agaaaaaain...."
[echoing] "Stop using exposition, Ing!"
[pblap]
"Wow! Now we're going to see the future!"
"I admit my wrongfulness. This has turned out to be even more fun than watching paint dry!"
"Let's tell all the tabloids about our adventures when we return home!"
"Hallo, it's the bells in the baker's shop!"
"Hooray, a funeral!"
"No, that's the butcher shop, Horst."
"What's the baker's shop for again?"
"Weddings."
"Well, that's almost as good. Let's see if they'll let us attend unwelcomely!"
"Wow, who are the bride and groom?"
"Holy shit!"
"Horst!! Don't take the name of the sacred excrement in va- holy shit!!"
"It's-"
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1678
"It's you two! Ingmar and Lars! Oh happy day!"
"WHAT?! Me marry him?"
"Maybe that's you, Horst!"
"I hate wearing dresses!"
"On the right!"
"No, that's you. Look at the rakish hair!"
"Ohh, I feel sick!"
"YOU feel sick?! Look at me! I'm actually touching you without violent intentions!"
"This is a nightmare! It's not happening!"
"Run back to the Twaddler! I want to go home!"
"It's not happeniiiiii...."
[splat]
"Thank my brother's lymph nodes. We are at home!"
"Ing and Horst, you must never mention what we have witlessnessed to any person. I cannot bear the thought of people bearing the knowledge that I married Ingmar!"
"Perhaps I don't want to marry you either then, miss smarty-lederhosen!"
"Shut up. Do you both swear?"
"We swear, we swear!"
"But I wanted to tell everyone of our race's fabulous ascent."
"There, there, Horst. Our intelligent scholars will find the truth soon enough."
"Hey, fellows, it's still dreadfully cold, and I have two nunavuts!"
"You don't mean-"
"Snow cones! Yay, Ingmar! You're the best!"
"You may buy me a mustard-anchovy one, Ing."
"You got it, sweetie-pie."
"What?!"
"Hee, hee. Just kidding, Lars."
Date: Sat, 03 Mar 2001 16:53:48 -0500
Subject: Ingmar and Lars Short: Ministry of Posture
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1989 (Flash)
A typical day in the Ministry of Posture. Here, we see the posture-challenged,
finding self-worth and meaningful employment in the downtown office. The
woman with slantosis delivers sensitive documents to her coworker with
slumpitis, who eats them at his desk. She gets exercise, he gets fiber,
and both get paid. Judging by his expression, though, he's getting intestinal
paper cuts, a common job hazard.
C.
NOTICE: In order to meet Eudora MoodWatch standards sufficient to elicit warnings before sending, which market research proves makes for enjoyable Ingmar and Lars experiences, we are including a known good 'inflammatory' word multiple times. Thank you.
hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters hooters
In preliminary tests, Eudora warned the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Hooters.
------------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.greetingdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1625 [Flash]
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
"Happy birthday to you, our proffered reader! We hope you appropriate this thoughtful e-card with I, Chibi Ingmar, not I, Chibi Lars, and- wait just one tooth-picking minute! You are not Horst!"
"Horst called to say he has cooties. I'm filling out for him."
"Well, whoever you are, stand back there and don't look too cute. You don't want to draw attention from Ing and the white spot he's getting in his chest fur."
"LARS!"
"Oops, did I mention that aloud again?"
"You can be so mean, Lars, you are positively average! Just 'cause you've got new umbrella pants and curly hair for spring!"
"Everybody at school knows her mom's really a hit man, that's where they get all their money."
"Shut up! Who is this crazy kid? My matron is a psychokinetic waste disposal technician, the finest in our city! I won't hear such radish rumours!"
"Yes, please do not pick at Lars."
"Whatsa matter? She your giiiiiiiiiiirlfriend?"
".....uh..."
"Of course not! Why would I descend to dating Ing? You are really starting to get on my neurons, buddy! Oh, Ingmar, stop sniveling! I have to pummel this ingrate!"
"You hate me! I'm running off to join the zoo!"
"I don't hate you. Now let me pummel!"
"Oh, so you love him?"
"That stomps it!"
"Perhaps the giraffes will take me in..."
"When I finish you off, you Horst-with-a-K, you'll eat out of a hole that does not yet exist in your body!"
"Wait until I tell the whole school..."
[Various sounds of death and destruction. Ingmar is sitting amongst the giraffes when his father, on his daily lunchtime Contrivance walk, spots him.]
"Son? Why are you amongst the giraffes?"
"Lars is a big meanie-head, Father."
"Well, that's no reason to run off to the zoo, son. I still love you."
"I guess."
"How about we both walk to the drive-through okra restaurant? It's on me."
"Thank you, Dad."
(Some time later, over an okra sundae)
"Father, why is it so arduous to be sensitive males in today's days?"
"I don't think it's so strainful, son-"
"Ha ha! Lookit the sensitive males!"
"Fuck off, pal! ...Ingmar, as I resume to say. Lars has a little attitude problem. She's a rich snotty pompous slimy violent-"
"Dad..."
"Right, sorry. My sharp point is, I believe she may outgrow all this."
"But Dad, if that's how she is raised, how?"
"Um... oh hell. Gimme a minute, son..."
"Thank you, good Father. But I will close the refrigerator door on my friendship with Lars."
"Oh, no! You've been pals since you were both being colored in Windows Paint! Perhaps take a coffee break from her."
"I'll think over it."
(Ing, days later, goes to Lars' house. Her mother answers, opening the door without using her hands.)
"Hallo, Mrs. Lars' Mother."
"Ah, Ingmar. I am ingratiated to see you. Please enter, we have much to disgust you with. Here we are!"
"Lars, it's the guy you beat up!"
"I'm no guy! I'm with the Ministry of the Obvious. I am your local devil's advocate."
"Oh yes! Those who beat us over the head and shoulders with Obvious Things."
"Like our floor lamp?"
"Yes, Lars, but much more. I am here in regards to your relationship."
"Well, if you insist. I suppose I could marry Ing, provided he never says anything stupid again and pays for a lavish wedding."
"Urk..."
"The decision is not yours, brattish Lars. It is for Ingmar and is much more immediate. Ingmar, you are forever within your power to choose your friends. Will you continue to befriend Lars?"
"What would I do without her presence?"
"Think, would you be better off?"
"I... I dunno..."
"Oh, this is my fault. Your father is to be commented, Ingmar. He has schooled you in politeness and caring without regard to your financial ruin. I have been too busy to provide such for Sophia."
"MOM! DON'T CALL ME-"
"Bite your tongue, young whelp! Now that my headstrong offspring may lose her ancientest friend, I will spend more time with her and teach her to not be such a jerk."
"Very good, Mrs. Lars' Mother. Now later, Ingmar. You do not need to decide immediately. Take some time."
"Thank you, Mr. Obvious."
"Well, now we two will just go busy ourselves in another part of the house for a little while for no good reason. Goodbye, Ingmar and Lars!"
[cricket noise]
"Ingmar..."
"Yeah?"
"S...Sorry."
"Epiphany accepted."
"Hey, you wanna go lawn bowling?"
"I don't have a lawn."
"You can take mine! It's got super-roll turf. I'll rent one from the lawn bowling alley!"
"Wow, Lars. You never allow anyone to touch your lawn."
"Well, I guess you're old enough."
(other side of the door)
"I don't think I like the way this conversation is going..."
"That, Mrs. Lars' Mother, is ob-"
"Stick it."
(other side of the door)
"Okay, let's go! Thanks, Lars!"
(Ing and Lars leave; the Advocate and Mom reenter)
Well, that is a good beginning. Oh, but Mr. Obvious Advocate, what about the birthday card?"
"Oh, that. Funny stuff, seems it's not the recipient's birthday, but his sibling's!"
"That.... should have been obvious."
One word:
"RIIIIIIIICOOOOOOOOLAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"
Date: Sat, 09 Jun 2001 12:37:57 -0400
Subject: Ingmar and Lars: I Guess I Just Cannot Trust Those Silly Horoscopes
After All
[As an aside, all of greetingsdepot.com's Flash is down today. ^.^;]
"Numerous what? Numerous WHAT?"
"Nothing proceeds it, Ingmar, it's merely Numerous."
"That's unfair! I paid a nunavut for this horoscope and it's incomplete."
"I am loath to barf this up, Ing, but perhaps you're going to die mid-phrase."
"No! That is as unthinkable as cheese that comes from cows! I won't have it."
"Going to complain to the Ministry of Prediction?"
"No, you must work your way up out of quicksand. I shall petition the manufacturer."
"I'll enjoin you. I haven't broken any kneecaps for a week!"
"Gratifications, Lars. Let's embark."
"Psst. Hey audience. Aren't I being nice to Ing?"
"Whassat, Lars?"
"Nothing, friend Ing, I'm on your way!"
[time passes]
"Here we stand. Let's stand inside."
"Must be foreign owned."
"Yes, they are our investors. Good evening, I am the customer repair representative. How may I assist you?"
"I spooned over a nunavut for this horoscope, which is not finished."
"Oh, yes. My humblest ineptitudes to you. We had a production problem; it turns up that the computer ran out of blue pixels, so we could not finish writing the text."
"May I have recompense?"
"You seem underage for that. However, if you desire, I will apply a free live fortune-telling to you and your comrade."
"You have psychic annuities, Ms. Customer Rep?"
"Of course. It's very helpful to know to be away from my desk when angry customers or local law enforcement call."
"I don't know..."
"I will also replace your horoscope. Come now, who's preceding?"
"If you shan't, Ingmar, I shall't. Tell me my prospects!"
"Very well, place your palm in the crystal ball."
"All r-"
[BZORCH]
"Ow, shock!"
"Ah, wondrous. All the psychic energy needed. Now, let me ponder. I must clear out latent images from my previous client, Barely Legal Belinda."
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1609
"It seems she will become a most success-less transsexual and will later fancy herself a type of gibbering waterfowl. But, let us return."
"What's the ice cream scoop?"
"You will find your passion in high cuisine. Using notwithstanding examples of native noshes, you will open popular restaurants, slurp up television spots, and fight in a gigantic foreign cooking arena. Then you will throw your cutting board on the floor and insulted native fans will rip you to irreconcilability. However, a day in bed finds you much better, and humbled, you marry happily and settle down."
"I don't like one nibble of that! I refuse to cook!"
"Wow. Please do mine!" [bzortch] "Ow!"
"Excellent, hold still. ...oh dear..."
"Why is the ball turning black?"
"Um, well, it's... uh..."
"Crispies, Ing! Maybe you will expire mid-phrase!"
"Please lay it straight on me, Ms. Rep. Will I die?"
"Er... No, no! Heh heh. Of course not! The ball's merely... overworked by your... CPU-intensive future! Yes. You're going to be a test pilot."
"WOW!"
"Flying the, uh, most toppest-secret military jets! Yeah. A bright, wonderful, long career as a test pilot. Yeah."
"Am I going to find a sweetie in the sky?"
"Glp... yes, yes you may well, young fellow. You'll have three offspring and a goldfish."
"I'm envious, Ing!"
"Thank you, Ms. Customer. I don't need the replacement horoscope. You have given me a bright future."
"Y-you're welcome, kid."
"Let's go, Ing, and tell everyone!"
"Goodbye!"
"G'bye. Good luck. I mean, with those G-forces!"
[The door closes. The rep's head sinks slowly to her desk.]
"Are you gonna make lunch, Lars?"
"You know I despise the tasks of females, Ing!"
"I don't think cheffery is too girly. Oh Lars, your hair ribbon gusted off! Don't worry, I'll run tragically across the street to get it for you!"
"Ing, NO!"
"Aaaaah!"
[screech]
"I'm dead. Everything's black, like my ball!"
"Hey son. You all right?"
"No, everything's black!"
"Calm down, kid. It's merely my Blackgoose J-5."
"What?"
"She's a beauty, isn't she? A plane this big and dark will blot out the sun, if you're silly enough to stand under its belly."
"It's okay, Ing. This test pilot was only taking off his highly classified aircraft down a major thoroughfare, nothing unusual."
"Again, are you all right, son?"
"Yes, sir. My apologetics for running in front of your bird."
"No harm finished. I'm test pilot Ace Flyboy, although my given name is George Smith. Let me make your near-splat experience up to you. Want to go for a ride?"
[Some time later, the plane lands vertically in an intersection. Those whose cars don't veer off and crash into buildings are wowed.]
"Ing, how was it? I'm envious again!"
"It was GREAT! And I only hurled once! Hey, Ms. Rep!"
"Lars has told me everything, young fellow. I am glad that your fortune was fortunate."
"Stay in touch, Ingmar. Return when you're twelve and we will train you to be a test pilot!"
"Thank you, Mr. Smith!"
"Let's go, Ing. After all this, I give up. I think I'll try making salt-crust red snapper."
"Ooh!"
"Mr. Pilot, you have no concept how relieved I am for that half-pint."
"So you're the psychic receptionist. Care to go for a ride? I could use a prognosticator, my radar's busted. We could land on the roof of a very nice, sturdy restaurant I know..."
"Well... gosh, assuredly!"
[The plane takes off, and traffic starts to inch through the intersection
again.]
---------------------------------------------
Oops!
Hooters hooters hooters!
http://www.greetingsdepot.com/previewcard.xhtml?cardid=1608
Barely Legal Belinda (hooters hooters) could no longer hide from her staff the fact that she had... _hiccups._ She had been hiccuping for over a month, and although she had learned to be almost silent during her prolonged attacks, you could see it happen and her wan smile was no camouflage.
So, concerned for their boss, her masses of exotic dancers, ero-masseuses, and naughty parking attendants gently nudged her in the direction of the Ministry of Sick People. Here, very dedicated nuts off the street gave their best treatment recommendations, but amazingly, her hiccups endured, despite her skin turning lovely purple (which was some comfort.)
A worker at the Ministry of What Time is It, on his way home from the earwax parlor, suggested that the root cause might be linked to the month of Va, which always falls sometime between Spring and the last time you had a bath. Va, as everyone knows, is a bad month to be a cat. Not only is it molting season, but things always seem to go wrong. One Va legend even tells of deciduous trees bearing edible fruit and losing their leaves while the conifers stayed green all year. In short, Va is like one huge clerical error, and the cats throw erasers into the mountains to remind Athena that she's fucking up.
Finally, something that the Ministry of Sick People could act upon. There was much discussion on how to get Belinda out of the month of Va. The best suggestion appeared to be to duct-tape her to the biggest yo-yo in the city, fire the yo-yo out of a missile silo, and grab the end really fast. This way Belinda would be shot across thousands of time zones until she reached somewhere where the month was over. Ten strong men would "walk the dog" for a few weeks until Va departed their vicinity too, then reel her in. With the cooperation of the Ministry of Shooting Things Into the Air, the launch date soon arrived.
The mood was festive, with Belinda in reasonable spirits. Everybody turned out to watch, the zinc band played, and turnips were selling at breakneck speed. A vendor sold ice water to the crowd to cash in on the drizzly and chill day. Thirsty from being duct-taped, Belinda bought one, drank, and belched up a huge air bubble. She took a huge breath and was still. The crowd roared. Belinda was cured!
Unfortunately the magistrate, still plastered from earlier pre-launch festivities and in the middle of an impassioned speech to the crowd concerning the marvels of feline engineering prowess and his wife's tongue, was startled by the crowd and stumbled backwards, bumping the controls placed onstage by the Ministry of Plot Contrivance and launching Belinda anyway. A young man in the crowd, who would later be a politician, would write in his memoirs, "And I thought they defied gravity before!"
Awed by Belinda's chestinal fortitude, everyone of course forgot to secure the end of the yo-yo string.
Belinda did return in several weeks, and it must be said in all fairness that Va had ended and her hiccups were gone for good. She returned with many gifts from the outside world and lots of stories to tell- how she met nice ministers and magistrates from the outside world, the infestation of a race of hairless monkeys resembling the ones the Ministry of Mental Health and Breeding Superintelligent Rats engineers for medical testing, how they gave her a nice cozy room with a bright reading light and engaged her in hours of fun conversation. Nobody really listened, though, as they were busy enjoying the foreign government's gifts of little chocolate-covered hard candies with lights blinking faintly in them, and dangly plastic earrings with stylish numbers drawn on. The month of Va was gone, and everything would return to normal.
<hooters>
"Hello,
splendid audience of gentle viewers. We are the beth din of Ingmar, Lars
and Horst, who has grown like genetically engineered corn this year. We
are at play in the leaves, and Lars appears to be emulating a turkey! Very
majestic, Lars."
"Does it look like the month for Thanksgiving, Ingmar?"
"Oh, corrections, that would be April."
"A turkey, indeed. Can't you spy a bride when you see one?"
"A bride, Lars? Is that the reason for your stock pose?"
"Oh, yes! I am postulating the day when I shall be a radiant bride. I shall of course be radiant because I am beauteous, and because joyful guests will playfully pelt me with the traditional bundles of fuel rods. I shall have a marvellous cake with a flight deck and pulse cannon. And when my handsome, rich, submissive husband looks at me all the world will disappear around me!"
"You mean you'll explode?"
"No, grubwit, I mean that I will be truly and udderly in helpless love, and my charming beau will carry me for miles to our new mansion on the most fashionable mountain. There I will-"
"...chain him up in the basement?"
"Shut your tarthole, Horst!"
"Hee hee. She will, Ing, you watch."
"Ahem. As I was postulating. I shall destruct the servants to bring us gourmet noshes and tend to the little things like bill-paying, and we shall live happily ever beyond."
"Wow. Really, Lars?"
"Of certainty, Ing. What will you do when you marry someone?"
"Hrm... I had only speculated that I should meet a pleasant female, tender and juicy, who shares my annuities of fighter jets and being a plot device and who appreciates okra in its many forms. We might kibbutz and enjoy the company of ourselves, and wish a long presence on each other. So then we'd have a wedding and we could both make okra for each other, and for any probable children."
"You think too much about okra, Ingmar."
"But I like okra."
"What about you, Horst?"
"I'm never gonna marry! I'll be a post-apocalyptic rebel!"
"Syrupy sweet!"
"You two are cashews. I'm gonna go home and write up my extranuptial agreement. See you at the annual pumpkin cannon firing!"
"Bye, Lars!"
"Hey, Horst, if you become a rebel, will you teach my kids to ride a scooter and blow out nuclear mutants?"
"Sure, and I'll buy them fruit leather jackets!"
"Okay, then you can be my most preferred man at the nuptials. Let's go see if they've picked out the pumpkin!"
"And who to put in it!"
</hooters>