Journal 9 - Climbing Up Everest.

AHAHAHA! YOU'RE SO FUNNY! GOOD JOKE MAN! GOOD JOKE!

You remind me of an artichoke I once knew..

I cry...

So anyways back to the story. That DELICIOUS story. The metallic fruit approached me with a look on their face like someone just kicked them in their rambugulars [ya it's an organ. LOOK IT UP!] They then said "You like... roaches?'' I said, "FREAK YA!" They then cried some explosive stuff. AW YA THAT'S GOOD STUFF!! They ran down the mountain and walked into a JCPenney's. They bought shoes of all sizes.

I kept climbing. I sang my favorite song all the way [Kick That Guy by Henry The Moose] I seemed to be screaming the lyrics, "KICK THAT GUY! KICK THAT GUY! MAKE HIM CRY! YOU'LL LOVE IT IF YA KICK THAT GUY!" I then approached a business man who was on the phone. At that point I was really getting into the lyrics and I kicked him in the face while saying "KICK THAT GUY, YA!" He fell on the floor in pain. He then started yelling at me and I peed my pants. He then laughed and screamed "HA YOU STUPID BABY. PEE YO PANTS." To which his partner on the other end of the phone heard, and somewhere far away, carried a puzzled look. He had a lot of explaining to do when he got back. Yes. Yes he did.

I then started wa- NOOOO DONT PUT THAT THERE! NO! NO! PUT I BACK! Whoa.. that was a close one. So anyways I then started walking up the mountain. I looked behind me. I saw a woman running around sayin' somethin' in Britainese. I went up to her, took a deep breath, breathed it back out, and walked away. I looked down the mountain. I had traveled about 3 yards. I was so close! I was tired. But I had to keep going. That dishwasher was alone and cold and I needed to comfort it.

I resumed my awesometastic climb, making sure my eellogofusciouhipoppokunurious cat was well fed. When I got there, a dendrochronological person was there, who stopped me and forced me to sing It's a Small World to the tune of the Indiana Jones theme song. It didn't fit.

I cried.

And cried.

And wiped my tears, sniffled a bit, and rubbed that cat I mentioned earlier with ointment.

Ointment. Ugghh gives me tha shivahs that's wha it does, mate. And that stupid idiom, "The fly in the ointment." Why? That's all I wanna know. WHYY?? I mean seriously, what STUPID fly would dare fly into some ointment? Doesn't he know all that awaits him is nice-smelling death? EHH??? DOES HE??? No matter. Back to my climb.

After singing It's a Small World, I punched that guy in du face and he cried. I felt bad, but now was not the time for answers. Or questions. Or questionable answers. Or answerable questions. Or unanswerable answers- wait what? Oh ya chicken nuggets.

Didn't you ever wonder why chicken nuggets is spelled so closely to Chuck Norris? I mean, there's chicken. Chicken. Chuck. Ya know, the whole square deal. Then nuggets. Nuggets, Norris, nationalism, ya know. The whole square deal.

Is it that chicken nuggets are Chuck Norris in food form? Does this then mean Chuck Norris is edible? But that means he can die if he's edible. OH NO COMPLICATED PARADOX I'LL ADDRESS YOU LATER.

Holy crap I get side-tracked easily. I need to focus on my primary goal, my secondary goal, trimary goal, and finally my ultimate quadary goal. Oh shnap that's a lot of goals.

WAIT A MINUTE. Let's recap my whole adventure. It is only now that I realize I've risked my life, escaped from impossible dilemma's, all because of a stupid Micheal Jackson CD that you can easily buy at Target's. Or Wal-Mart. You get the point.

Think about it. And REALLY think.

Are you thinking?

I doubt it.

If you had any normal thought processes at all, you wouldn't even be reading this journal, because normal thought processes are dull and monotonous. I LIKE USING BIG WOORRDDDSSS!!!!! I LIIEEKKKK IIITTTT. See what I mean with the whole side-tracking thing? My entire brain is a pulsing treadmill of thoughts.

Okay. Allow me to say what I must say. Before I start talking about butterflies. Wow... they're so pretty, and nice, and nicely pret- NO!!! I MUST NOT!!

Aw what the heck. Side-trackin ain't so bad. I mean who wants to hear about an awesome adventure all day? Don't ya wanna see the world? Universe? Bathroom? TOILET? Well I'm sure you do. And you will. When the time is left. Not right but left. The left time.

Time left.

Left time.

What?

I finally finished climbing the stupid mountain and found the cave.

"YA I FOUND THE CAVE WOO!" I said to myself in a loud voice that could be heard from Chili. I left the cave and jumped on a flying kangaroo. We flew to Chili. The Chililians started partying and they held a parade for me. IT WAS SO AMAZING I CRIED! They started to rub each others backs. I punched them all in the face.

They thanked me.

I then told them to go tell the mayor of Poobawooba Land that his shoes are tied. I didn't think they liked the plan very much 'cause they tied me to a rocket and sent me flying into a tree.

Ouch.

I died from the impact. An owl jumped out of the tree and rushed me to a hospital. The doctor there said "OH MY GOODNESS HE'S DEAD!" I then got up and said, "NUH-UH SISTA!" slapped the owl and left.

When I got outside I remembered the mission. The mission to go to the cave to go back to the Russian cook who will show me the way to Gaklama Kalama who would give me the documents which I would give to that Russian guy at the beginning of this journey who would give me the Michael Jackson CD. The CD that I just felt I needed.

Ya.

That's the plan.

I jumped in this portal at the side of the road. The portal took me..

Somewhere..

My last thoughts were....

What's with all the Russians??



- Ya Know Those Words Up There? Ya Those Words. They Are The Amazing Oozy Woozy Journal Entry Thingy's of That Guy Who Has a Face and I Called Him Steve Back in Community College Because He Preferred it From His Real Name Which is Haman J. Palamanikikila Which I Thought is a Better Name Than Steve but it's What He Preferred So I Went With it to a Magical Land Filled With Ding-Dong's and Ho-Ho's- Wait... HO-HO'S???

Journal 8 - Mountain of the Everest, Come and Give me an Arm Rest.

The Russian cooker person stared at me. "So.... you vant to find ze Gaklama?? I vill SHOW you ze way, vut, een veturn, you must geeve me a token of appreciation. To do theese task, you must first go to ze Himalaya's, and find ze secret tunnel een ze Mt. Everest. I have gone there, many time. Many many time. Vonce I dropped a deeshewasher down ze hole. Now, theese deeshewasher eez incredible. Eet can vash up to THREE deeshes at vonce. Now go. Go now. Ven you come back, I will show you the vay to Gaklama Kalama. Eez theese deal?? EEEZ EEEETTT AAHHH DEEEAAALLLLL??!?!!"

"Yeah sure it's a deal." I said, and scurried off to find the Magical Couch of Waterloo.

I went to JFK Airport, (JFK in Lima? You bet my fern on it!), and boarded a plane. It was a random plane, and I had no idea where it was going. I thought it said something about Mercury, but I wasn't so sure.

"Eh-eh-excuse meh-me, s-s-sir??" asked a flight attendant. "Wuh-wuh-wuh-would you like some p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-pef-re-fpw-dfp-fep-epf-wpeo-peanuts, sir?" Wow. Poor thing was tremblin' like a leaf. A leaf covered in tape sauce, of course. I like tape sauce. I guzzle it by the gallon, every 2 and a half minutes. And tape sauce loves me too. Sometimes it climbs out of the baby crib by itself just to give me a hug. I like hugs. And I like tape sauce. Tape sauce is good, very good. I like things that are very good. I like a lot of things. I like liking a lot of things. I enjoy it. Tape sauce. Cover me man, tape sauce. I drink it outta the can.


Tape sauce.

Yeah.

So anyway, I was freakin right about it not going to the Himalaya's, but freakin wrong about it going to Mercury. I was going to the Sun yo. To bake some freakin potatoes. On a freakin hot surface. Like the freakin sun. DO YA SEE MY DILEMMA?

We WHOOSH!ed past the International Space Station, I waved "Hello!" to Elvis Presley, eating burgers on a giraffe with wings, and I saw a few of my zombie friends from the previous journals. One by one, they gave me wet, sloppy kisses on my cheek. It actually made sense that they were from outer space; you see, they were licked by ALIENs, remember? And aliens come from outer space.

Well..... we here at the company changed our minds, on your behalf. YOU, DEAR READER. WE CHANGED OUR UNCHANGEABLE WAYS JUST FOR YOUUUUU. So be freakin grateful. Sing us praises and send lemons to us in the mail. So, we changed our freakin minds. Aliens don't come from outer space, they come from cucumber gratings.

Duuhhh.

Anyway, I had to get out, and fast. I asked for the nearest wangos, and I asked the cute little bagel sitting by me. Wait.... where the aardvark did it come from? Nonetheless, I asked it, and in response, it starts tickling my feet. How weird is that?

I jump out of my seet, (YEAH I SPELLED SEAT WRONG. DEAL WITH IT.) nearly peeing myself in horror. It.... tickled... my... golden... lemon... coated... feet. It. Will. Pay. But later, when I ffffeeeel like it. Hey, I enjoy writing in italics. I'll keep it like this for a while. Whooo goin bold too. I'm just crazy. I'm insane. Well... enough is enough. I could have hurt myself back there.


I bump into thy flight attendant, and the kind young lady, who looked about 80 or so, directed me to the nearest parachutes.[I asked for wangos but parachutes are cool too.] I tried to thank her, but when I did, she kinda disintegrated. So I licked the ashes and moved on. I strap a parachute onto my leg, and I smash open a window. This is a crazy moment. I jump through the hamster sized window, fly past Elvis, (who finished his burger and is now listening to Lady Gaga), past the zombies, (I momenetarily wonder how they kissed me when they were outside the plane while I was in. I then come up with an advanced astrophysics theory, which, in a nutshell, stated that we never really exist), and I smash into the International Space Station, drink a soda, go to the bathroom, pet a pickle, made out with a pencil case, and then I was on my way to Earth.

I fly past the atmosphere, and the Himalaya's come rushing up to greet me. I think they said something about welcoming strangers, but I didn't listen. Oooh I'm bad. Lol. Anyway, I hung out with them back in the crazy days, where.... stuff... happened.

I activate the parachute, on my leg, and it pulls me upside down. ANOTHAH CRAZAH MOMENT. I land, do a somersault, lick a llama, tickle a pineapple, place delicate banana splits on a dolphin tentacles, and smash a waffle in it's FREAKIN FACE CAUSE IT MADE FUN OF ME BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL. He called me a human.

I miss the mountain by 16 miles, and I land on the Titanic. I see my grandma gorging herself with fruit. "Grandma... what you doing here?!?!" I yell, but I don't think she heard. She kinda slipped down into her seat, still stuffing as much fruit as possible into her mouth. She wore a large striped dress, and I think it used to be a tent. Juice trickled down her chin as she chewed the fruit monstrously. Her flabbulous body shook with each swallow.

She glanced up momentarily, and stopped dead. "I... I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, BUT I GAVE BIRTH TO MY GRANDFATHER, WHO IS LUCKILY A FOOTBALL. SO DON'T YOU DARE MESS WITH ME." And she began to cry. The poor woman has gone insane. I go to comfort her, but she smashes some fruit in my face. I start crying. She's crying. We both cry, and we hug, and sniffle a bit. "Stay with me Phil. Don't you dare leave me again" she whispers in my ear. "I won't." I whisper back. Her tears cover the earth, and at last she joins Elvis. In outer space.

The Hungry Elephants[AND THEY WERE RLY HUNGRY TODAY!] of Greenland come stampeding through, drinking up all the tear juice. Their trunks turned hot pink in anticipation, and anxiety. It made me uneasy.

I looked around, and saw an avalanche comin' down Everest. Grandma was up in orbit. She was safe. I counted 42 big boulders rolling down the mountain. Along with 84 smaller rocks. They were white. Were they vanilla? Only one way to find out.

Yeah. I got bored of italics. It was enough. It was... too much. Too much man.

The boulders come flying down the mountain, kicking up dust and snow. It was amazing. At the top of the mountain, I could see the shape of Elvis snickering to himself. I'll have to get him later. And give him a whuppin'.


Now these entries and such have been all about me. But what about you? Do you wish to have a part in my most fandangulouus tale? Yes? WELL TOO FREAKIN BAD. YOU CANT BE A PART OF MY STORY! THAT'S JUST JIGGLY!! so instead you can just answer these questions. Are you fond of the letter D? Do you think my nose is too big? My walrus does smell of guavas?

...

Well did you answer them?? Well too bad if you didn't. Because I will now return to my story. right.... NOW!

Now these rocks were indeed white but they were also.. EXPLOSIVE! Yeah but they didn't explode. They were non-explosive explosive rocks. BUT TERRIFYING ALL THE SAME!

The rocks came my way and started to trample me. I then started saying things like "ouch" and "ooh that hurts!" and I recall saying at one point "my my my you've gotten taller!" but the rocks didn't hurt. They were actually quite relaxing.

The avalanche stopped. I got up. I looked around. I took a whiff of the air and smelled croissants. Burnt croissants. I hated the smell. It reminded me of the time I tripped in the 5th grade.

[Flashback.... 5th Grade...]

I was walkin down the hall arguing with my friend about antelope sleeping methods.

Then... disaster...

I tripped on this BIG THING! Everyone laughed. And then choked on some asparagus. And then laughed some more. It really sucked.

[It ends. Get on with your life, freakin stalkers. What, you wanna know every detail of my life?]

So when I was all done sniffen, I start ted to climb the mountain. [Haha. Start ted. Sounds funny] I climbed. And then climbed some more. And then I fell. Then I yelled at the mountain. Then I started to climb again. I looked at my watch. It said "DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK!" so I looked away.

Who needs the time anyways.

The mountain started to shake. I panicked. I don't like shakin. It ain't my thangggg.

I found a parade of metallic citrus fruit clanging down the hill, singing the National Anthem of Uruguay at the top of their heels, which caused all the shaking. I didn't like it. No sirree, I did not like this one bit.

- Super Amazin Wow Awesome Journals of the What the Hell Who's Bettah Than Haman J. Super Awesome, Need I Say His Last Name? Palamanikikila, Yeah I Guess I Do Gotta Say His Last Name Cause He Is Just Too Awesome.

Journal 7 - Peanuts. Always a Mystery to Me.

I hiked through the thick brush of the jungle. I don't mean a hair brush; although this place badly needed one. I soon met a walrus along the way. He offered me a bagel but I had to refuse. I refused man. CLICK HERE FOR AWESOMENESS.

Stupid old men. Always sticking their tongues out at people. What a freakin waste. Walrusses.

We were talking of Walrus, and of feet. Walrus feet. Yummy feet.

The Walrus looked at me, skeptically. He appeared to be sunbathing, on a rock. In the shade. "What do ya want?" he chirped to me.

"I need to find a man. His name is Gaklama Kalama. I was told he lives somewhere in the South America jungle, in Lima. Well... first of all, I need to find Lima. But not the lima bean, please, no beans." I still think, to this day, that he thought I meant the bean.

"Lima, eh?? Just walk back the way you came, and soon you'll come to an area of smashed trees. Don't wonder about what MADE the smashed trees, just pray and be hopeful you don't meet it. After that, you jump across the stepping stones in a busy rushing river. Then, you climb a small mountain of rock, and on the other side, is Lima. Here's a genetically mutated talking Map to help you find your way."

The Walrus gave us the map. It had large eyes, a mouth, and it started to sing. It was so freakin annoying.

"I'M THE MAP I'M THE MAP I'M THE FREAKIN MAP!!! I'M THE MAAAPPPP!!! NO NO SERIOUSLY DUDES. I'M A MAP. LOOK AT ME. JUST LOOK. IT'S OBVIOUS. SO OBVIOUS. I'M A MAAAAAAAAPP!!!! I'M THE MAP! I'M THE MAP! I'M THE MAAAAAPPAROONI!" sang Map.

"Oh gosh..." I said, shaking my head. This dude was a total idiot.

"There are three steps to get to Lima! SAY IT WITH ME!! Trees, River, Mountain! Trees, River, MOUNTAIN!! TREES, I SAY FREAKIN RIVER, MOUNTAAAIINNNNNN!!!!!"

Pfft. No way was I going to say it with him.

The Map then made a mad, yet disturbing, face and said "What the heck man, why won't you sing?!" then I was all like "Map, it's not my calling! I only sing if it's my calling!" He then gave me a hug and told me all about his fantastical, magical, weekend.

We left the Walrus to sun bathe. He seemed to be enjoying himself but looked like he needed some pants. Walrus pants, of course. They are cozy. Cozy like a blanket on your silly willy skin.

The Map and I then did everything the Walrus said. LIKE EVERYTHANG. We even did that dance he recommended. I know it doesn't say that so SHUTUP. JUST SHUT YO MOUTH! When we got to Lima we got a coffee. A Starbucks coffee. It tasted of blubber. The Map then pulled out a bubble blower and said "GIVE MEH DU MONAY!!"

I then said "Oh crap... I'm out of money." He said "Oh well, that's too bad" and jumped down a hole. A hole that is not fun to jump down. I then asked the cashier "Hey where's my mustard? I asked for mustard with my coffee." He didn't say anything. I then asked "Fine if you won't supply my mustardy needs, then where's Gaklama Kalama?" He pointed to the chef who was an old Russian woman.

Oh well. At least shes not smelling the forks.

- The Pretty Fricken Sweet Fabtastic Amazin like Raisins Adventures of the one and only Happy Slappy Haman J. Palamanikikila

Journal 6- Poor Poor Misunderstood Creatures

We last left off when I realized zombies really WERE flesh eating maniacs.

I dashed down the hallway, and turned the corner. The lights were off. I was scared.

I was really scared.

I slowed to a walk. And then, without warning, a zombie smashed through a store front behind me. A flood of about 30 or so followed. I shrieked. Like a lady. I ran through the hall, tripped, lost my second shoe, and kept on running.

The hall ended with a huge glass window, and I ran so hard I smashed straight through. Only then did I remember I was on the 7th floor of the mall. At least I wasn't on the 42nd floor. Hey, they don't call it the GREAT Mall for nothing.

I fell through the air, and smashed into a mattress. I'm thinking the same exact thing you are. Why DID they name thicker and darker text "bold" text? Why couldn't they have switched the name with "italic"?

What was that? You were thinking about pineapples? Gee, that sure shows how you're paying attention to the story. You're such a disgrace. And your breath stinks. Go wash it out with vinegar. And garlic oil. Please. You disgust me.

Where did that mattress come from? Why were they here? What was their purpose in life? The philosophical meanderings of mattresses are much funner to ponder than ours. While lying on this mattress I realized that I was quite sleepy. QUITE SLEEPAY. So then I started to nap.

I had dreams man. Dreams about unicorns, and multi-colored gummy bears. It was a magical dream. This dream would go great with some ceaser salad. Don't you agree? Well I agree. I agree quite thoroughly.

Then the freakin zombies. Those silly zombies... They then rained from the sky while yelling something in Portuguese. They all fell on my bony body and it hurt. Like a painful hurt of PAIN.

I groaned, and murmured, "Mom... I don't wanna go to school." "Mom. Leave me alone mom. NO, I DON'T want pineapple milk for breakfast. It's just not right." Then I realized it wasn't my mother. Then I realized I never had a mother, there were only grapes. Just GRAPES everywhere. Like all over the place.

So back to the zombies. They had smelly breath. It smelled of lemons and hair straightener. I'm usually fond of lemons, but not this time. It was a lemon gone wrong. Oh so wrong. The zombies then started to nibble my ears. It tickled a little but was mostly unpleasant. I then yelled at them to nibble their own ears but they just wouldn't listen. They didn't give me the respect I deserve. I DESERVE RESPECT FROM ZOMBIES.

Just then, an alien aircraft sped over the air and licked the zombie's fur. It was funny, but it only lasted a few microseconds. But wait... ZOMBIES DIDN'T HAVE FUR. Anyway, because of all the licking, they got up and just sorta wandered their own ways. I got up off the mattress, and it disappeared. I turned around. The Great Mall of China was gone too. In it's place was a mass jungle. A South American Jungle. I was confused, scared, and wanted a bath. A wet bath. Not a dry one. Those things are ridiculous. You know what? I DO want a dry bath. I also wanted to continue my nap, but I had work to do.

Dead Micheal Jackson counted on me.

- The Super Amazing Wondrous Wonderful Adventures of the Wow Look At Him Cool Dude Haman J. Freakin Palamanikikila.

Journal 5 - Are These Zombies Really My Friends... or are They.... Salads?

The Chinese vendor offered me some potatoes, because I already had ice cream.

I shook my head no and ran off. How did I get to China from South America? They're on opposite ends of the world. I thought the only two ways to get to China was by plane or by hole.

Pasta; mind you- far inferior to Italian pasta- filled the air. Wait. Allow me to rephrase that. Pasta didn't fill the air. No. That would be plain silly. The SMELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL of pasta filled the hair. Now I said hair. Dang it. You know what I meant.

I walked down the cobbled streets and soon a looming mall was in front of me. The Great Mall of China. It stretched for miles in every direction of 3 dimensional space; height, width, and length. Of course, to produce the goods for the Great Mall, and for America, there had to be the Great Factory of China. The Great Factory of China was underground, and covered 98.42% of Europe. A brief concept of taking over Europe by sending soldiers under target countries and invading from below flashed across the mind of China's leaders, but the plan was soon rated as "unsatisfactory", "random", and, "It'll just never work."

Any way, tens of thousands of people were in the mall, shopping, and doing their thang. I entered. And upon entering, I entered a whole new world. There was music, and lights, and lights, and music. There were shops, a gigantic food court, arcades, you name it. The shops consisted of clothes, games, toys, shoes, accessories, clothes, games, toys, accessories, and shoes.

It was breathtaking. I quickly ran off to frolic and play
Before I knew it, the shops were closing. I ran to the main entrance, and SLAM! baby SLAM!. The main gates SLAM! slamm'd shut. The lights turned off. I was trapped.

I wandered in the mall, metal gates over the entrances to each store. But, there was one store that was still open. From a distance, it looked like a Subway [Sandwhich shop. Not the underground mode of transportation. Idiots]. But, as I got closer, I realized it was something else. It was a Zombie shop. The light in the shop was still on, too.

And then, the rush came. A crowd of hungry zombies flowed from the restaurant, gnashing teeth and snarling at me. I shrieked of course. The thought of running never occurred to me until they grabbed my shoe. I shrieked again, and in an effort to run away, my shoe came off. The zombies chewed my shoelaces. I guess the previous sign was wrong- zombies just want a good shoelace to eat.

And the realization finally dawned on me. The human race has misinterpreted these peaceful beings the whole time. Zombies just chase you around because they want a good shoelace to eat. Not because they want to munch on your brains. I smiled. They looked up.

Crap. I started running.

- The Wondrous Wonderfully Fully Awesome Full of Amazing Adventures of the Super Cool and Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila

Journal 4 - Goin' To South America; Lima, yo.

I went to JFK Airport. JFK in Turkey? You bet my fern on it! I got through security in a breeze. Cause I am just that awesome.

I went to sit in the back of the plane. Then a nice young lady, who looked about 80 or so, sat down next to me. She was so sweet. And listening to "Fireflies". Now, THAT is just messed up. Old people don't listen to electropop nowadays hit music. It just defies some serious laws that weren't officially activated yet.

Now I have it stuck in my head. You would not believe you're eyes... if ten million fireflies... lit up the world as I dance, dance. Dance dance. 'Cause I'ma dancer I'ma dancer in prancer, and I ate my pasta.... PASTA YEAH!!... pasta in my lemon sauce... saucy... a fox trot above my head. A sock hop beneath my bed.

Enough. She was annoying too. She kept on looking at me, and smilin. As if she got a problem with me. Did she have a problem with me? I bet she did have a problem with me. I bet she did. A man in front of me turned around, and shot me a look. Shot me it. SHOT. ME. IN. THE. STOMACH. BLOOD. GUSHING. LIKE. GUSHER. CANDY.

The flight was long. Like... 50 hours long. Reaallyy long. And then there was a guy. Pickin' his nose. I couldn't wait for the flight to be over. In fact, in the middle of the flight, I went to the bathroom for the rest of it. I was flushing stupid objects down the toilet. Like hair spray.

The bathroom was small, painted yellow. A disgusting yellow. The toilet was silvery chrome, and so was the sink. I opened the thing beneath the sink, and then there was a creepy old man in there, watching me. I closed the door. Enough is enough. There was also a stove there. This is where I cooked my meals.


Finally, the flight was over. I opened the door to see a long line of people, patiently waiting for me to exit the latrine. One threw a tomato at me when I exited.

What a nice crowd.

I walked off the plane, and tripped on the crack between the plane door and the metal hallway thingy that connects to the airport. Somehow, I pushed the plane to the side, making the gap wider. I fell through. It hurted.

Instantly, the air was alive with army helicopters. Sirens of distant police squad cars filled the air. I ran for my life.

"GET HIM!" Yelled the sergeant at me. At ME, the guy who just wanted some documents in exchange for a Micheal Jackson's CD.

I ran deep into the thick brush of the jungle, and I thought I lost them.

Well... I did. But then... oh... THEN.... I saw the boy. The boy was staring at me. This is what he looked like.
He was probably a smoker. Or a drinker.

And at probably around 12.... shameful. Just shameful.


He lifted his hand. And killed me. But I didn't die.

I took off into the jungle, running away from all the enemies of the world, and then I fell off a cliff into a surging waterfall. I drowned, but still didn't die. Duh. I crawled out of the water, choking and gasping, and took off once more. I didn't know where I was going. And I burst through the final clearing and then..... I was in China.

-The Wondrous Wonderfully Amazing Adventurous Journals of the Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila.

Green... UH... UH... Red - Journal 3 [Cont.]

[Previously on The Wonderfully Amazing Adventurous Journals of the Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila] Micheal Jackson, dead, trail of blood, creep stalker dude, with gun, pointing at my face. That's it in a nutshell. But if that shell breaks?....

There he was. Looking at me. Staring deep into my eyes. For a moment, I thought he would propose his dying love for me. Then he took out a .45 automatic pistol. Or something. In a thick Russian accent, he exclaimed, "Geeve me ze documents." And I stared right back at him. And I whispered. "No."

"Give me the CD" I said.

And he whispered. "No."

It seems we have reached a dilemma. He wanted the imaginary documents, and I wanted that CD. Amazingly, nobody seemed to notice the gun in his hand. I scanned the environment, looking for something, anything, to get me an advantage. I saw nothing. well... Maybe like a butterfly. But that wouldn't help. Unless I flew on it's back out of the area... naw... that'd never work. Butterfly's can not eat pie.

So my plan was out of the picture.

His grip on the gun tightened. He was gonna pull the trigger. "OKAY I'LL GET YOU THE DOCUMENTS" I screamed.

An old man gazed at me. "What was that?!?!" He hollered.
"Nothin'!! Go away you old fart!" I hollered back. He left. Looking hurt.
Pfft like I cared.

"Very vell" he said. "Ze documents can be fond [found] in South America. Go. Go now. I geeve you zis Zee-Dee after you geeve me ze documents. Vonce in South America, track down a man named Kalama Gaklama, in Lima."

I don't know what he was up to, but until I track down Kalama Gaklama....


- The Wondrous Wonderfully Amazing Adventurous Journals of the Awesome Haman J. Palamanikikila.

Thumbs - Journal 3: Things Start to Get Interesting.

Today.

My whole life changed today.


This is what happened. First of all, it started when I found Micheal Jackson on my floor. Dead. Yeah we knew he was dead already, but the question still remains- how did he get into a cheap apartment in Turkey, my home? I didn't know. I was scared.

Scared.

Like.... REAALLLY scared.

And so then I observed that the left side of his skull was smashed inward. A trail of blood lead from his head to the window. This is so scary, the phone literally rang as soon as I finished typing. If you copy and paste this five times on some... thing, then your name will flash on the screen in big glittery letters. If you don't, you'll have 20 nanoseconds before the corpse of Micheal Jackson comes through the door and strangles you.

Haha. Just kidding.

Anyway, I followed the trail of blood to the window. Out on the streets below, I saw street vendors selling cheap useless crap. And then I saw it, a man giving another man a CD; a Micheal Jackson CD.

I felt it. I just felt it.

I needed that CD.

I quickly opened the window, and scanned for a way down. I jumped out the 5 story window, and landed on those little thingies... things... like those things, you know? The fabric covers over a street vendor's cart??

I rolled off the edge. The man who got the CD wore a dark, ominous, and highly overrated and overused trench coat, along with a dark fedora hat. I should have spotted him instantly, but I didn't.

And then... there he was. Looking at me. Pointing a gun at me. Ahhhh hollyy craaapp..... [To Be Continued....]

- The Journals of Haman J. Palamanikikila

Cheese - Journal 2

Hey, it is I, Haman J. Palamanikikila again. 31 minutes after my original entry.

I've come to discuss an important matter with you- cardboard.

Lemme tell you one thing, right now. Cardboard is made out of banana peel and bubble gum. Shocked? No? That's to be expected. Now listen to me. Listen to me very closely. Listening? No? Okay. Now you're just being a jerk. Don't give me this attitude. Who the hell raised you? Seriously? I need a stern talking to your parents about their parental skills. Maybe they'll give you to child care, only for you to adopted by a family of coyotes, living your life in the desert. Not so funny now, is it?

Back on track. Some types of cardboard are often synthesized out of chee- oh. Okay. Don't pay attention. You know what, with your stupid attitude, I'll just stop talking about this fascinating subject. Yep. That's right. Good bye. I hate you. Jk. I can never hate anyone.

Haman J. Palamanikikila signing out.

Pie - Journal 1.

All stories begin with a name. Perhaps it is best to start with mine. My name is Haman J. Palamanikikila. Don't try to pronounce it. You'll do better by calling me by my nickname, Carrot Juice. It's a long story, so don't ask. Oh, so you ask after I specifically tell you not to? Okay, I'll let it go this time.

Next time, you won't be so lucky.

Any way, this story begins with a word, and this paragraph is perhaps entirely contradictory to my previous one. Pie. Yep; that's right. Pie.

Think about pie. Think about it for a moment, and really THINK. Think hard. But not too hard. Otherwise spaghetti bits will fly out of your mouth in excited fire cracker overload of the brain.

The brain- a fascinating subject. Prone to relieving hydrochloric acid in stressed times. It causes brain damage, you know. Why would it program itself to do that? Is your brain emo? Oh well, no one knows. Another fascinating fact of the brain- it can stretch to amazing proportions, oozing of your eyes and nose if you're not too careful. The brain is a dangerous thing. Maybe we're better out without it. Or maybe not.

Weeeeelllll...... maybe we are.


Haman J. Palamanikikila signing out.