I was sitting and silently pondering the universe just now, staring at a blank MS Word document, and I decided to put my fingers to the keyboard and see what happens. I am rather concerned at the result (see below):
A man has his dreams. And so do I.
Sometimes I dream I’m a magical pink unicorn, with butterflies fluttering around my face at all times. They’re actually kind of annoying, and I asked them to go away once, but they’re stubborn little fuckers. But it’s okay, I mean they ARE beautiful and stuff. But I have magical unicorn powers.
What’s that? You wanna know what my magical unicorn powers are? Well, I’m glad you asked. My horn can do complicated mathematical equations, and my feet can murder a donkey… if I stomp on top of a donkey. They can pretty much murder anything I stomp on. Except noodles. I don’t know why, but my feet can’t murder noodles. That’s weird.
What other powers do I have? Wow, you’re awfully curious today. Well, my glorious mane is actually made of Elf pubes, so I have the immortality of an Elf’s crotch. You didn’t know that, although an Elf ages and eventually dies, his or her crotch is ageless, did you? Nah, you didn’t.
Also I’m a unicorn who likes hip hop. That’s pretty rare in the magical unicorn kingdom. We have a kingdom now. It’s a pretty archaic political system but it seems to work for us. The King’s a cool guy. Although it’s a little weird that he’s a guy and not a unicorn. I mean, he could even be a regular horse, you just strap a horn on his head and we won’t even know the difference. Us unicorns aren’t the most perceptive species. We miss a lot of things that go on. But we haven’t missed the fact that our King is a regular human dude.
He’s the only human in the kingdom, so that’s probably why we made him King when the previous King died. He’s pretty interesting, actually. His name’s Boris, and he has a hat. None of us unicorns had ever seen a hat before King Boris showed up. It’s really interesting. We kind of wear hats in a way, with our horns being on our heads, but we can’t remove them.
I guess King Boris is kind of a unicorn with a removable horn that says Reebok on it. Sometimes he gathers all the unicorns together in his royal hall and tells us stories about the human world and how he came to be in our kingdom. He says he came in a submarine.
Unicorns can’t go in submarines. I’m not sure why, but it’s our oldest law. The unicorn gods say it is forbidden. Of course nobody has ever seen the unicorn gods, and many of us doubt their existence, it just seems to make sense that we obey these laws. I mean, what good can possibly come from a unicorn in a submarine anyway? The law just makes sense, regardless of where it comes from.
If there was a law that said unicorns aren’t allowed to stomp on donkeys, I would disobey that law immediately. It just doesn’t make sense. Stomping donkeys is the main pastime of us unicorns. Maybe not in the upper crust of unicorn society, but with us lower and middle class unicorns it’s our favourite thing to do.
I have to go eat some hay now.
So that’s the kind of shit that is floating around in my head. What the fuck, Brad. Seriously? Unicorns and donkeys and hats and submarines? You need help.