[Joe the Intern]

Here's da next chapter for all you horny people who wish to read weird stories of Vykkers and pastries.



Chapter 13
Shmo stared out his office window at the lush Oddworldian landscape. The Glukkon was in need of some encouragement, and not to mention some sort of booze. (and you know that with booze there’s gotta be some sort of hooker!). “Any word on the Danish?” Shmo asked his assistant.
“No sir. No word on the Danish.” the assistant replied. Shmo got a funny look in his eye and said “So all goes according to plan. Mwahaha!”
“What goes according to plan sir?”
“I told you. All of it.”
“All of what?”
“IT, you idiot! IT!”
“Sir, as of yet, there is no plan.” Shmo’s assistant was getting agitated.
“Yes there is! I have a plan forming in my head!” Shmo retorted, trying to keep his smidgin of pride. Though, I should tell you something, he had no pride to begin with. It was something he thought up whilst drunk. Anyway... Shmo and his assistant went on with their “conversation”.
“What plan? Explain to me this ‘plan’,” said the assistant.
“Well, I plan to invade Rupture Farms with my very own army and search for the Danish.”
“Sir, are you insane?”
“Slightly, but the Doc said it will wear off with a little bit of rest and some Chill Pills.”
“Shmo-” Shmo cut him off before he could continue.
“What did you call me?!? I’ll have you know I am your superior, and for calling me by my real name, you will get on the floor and lick my toes!”
“Sir?”
“LICK EM!” Shout Shmo. The Slig complied by taking off his pants (since he couldn’t very well bend over. I hope that clears up your naughty thoughts!) and getting on the floor to lick Shmo’s toes. After a thorough licking of the Gluk’s Almighty Tarsals, the Slig got back up into his pants.
“Sir, as I was saying, you can’t invade Rupture Farms. Odd knows what kind of spirits are in there playing Twister right now!” Shmo’s assistant seemed appalled at the thought of invading Rupture Farms without throwing a going-away party first.
“Think of all the happiness and shoes I would have if I found that Danish!” Shmo was definitely excited at the thought of the Danish. You could see it through his suit!
“What do you mean by that?”
“Haven’t you ever wanted a Danish of your very own? To have and to hold? Till death do you part?”
“Are you asking me if I would marry a Danish?”
“No! I’m asking if you would ever want to have a Danish! They are very lovely and make great decorations!”
“Uh, sir, I don’t personally care for pastries myself.”
“WHAT?!? Get out of my office you fiend!”
“But sir, I work here!”
“OUT! If you cannot appreciate a good Danish you do not deserve to be in my company!”
“Whatever, you nutty bastard.” That was the end of a little ditty I like to call, “A Gluk’s Sexual Attraction to a Pastry.”