Burger Monthly: The Thrill Is Gone

As I stabbed the flappy cheeseburger directly into my facial port, my sense of "being" and "togetherness" began to slowly fade away. I no longer derived any joy or pleasure from the oral jam, only a sense of detachment as the bun contorted and tore around the borders of my food sewer.

With my eyes half closed, I pictured my dismal, flickering existence and how I'm known around town as "Burger Terry." The name was given to me because I, along with everyone else in my family, bulldoze multiple burgers per day. Being a burger dumpster used to bring me an exotic sensation and a trembling joy deep in my groin, but now I feel only emptiness. And it's all because I killed my aunt by eating her burger that would've saved her life.

My aunt, Clort Floop, was in the emergency ward of the local hospital, suffering from "Burger's St. Wort," a terrible beef affliction. Like me, she only ate burgers, so the doctor had to deliver her every treatment through the medium of fresh, wet hamburgers. The doctor needed to give her spinal fluid so he injected it into a double cheeseburger "Fresh X-Treme" from Groper's BUR-GUR Kingdom and passed it to her to ingest. But before she could eat it, I snatched it out her moistened fingertips and drove it down my funnel with two fingers. Aunt Clort screamed in wretched agony and died instantly.

It took me only seconds to realize what I'd done. My desire for sweet, oily brownmeat had driven me to commit a terrible act. But the worst thing was, it hadn't been the first time. I wish to repent for these crimes so I can once again go back to the sensual burger life I once enjoyed.

LIST OF HEINOUS BURGER CRIMES (Chronological Order):

December 25th, 1976: My first burger crime was committed at a family Christmas gathering where I stole a baby bottle full of burger milk from my young cousin.

March 31st, 1994: I went and saw Jurassic Park in the movie theaters and when my mom wasn't looking, I shoved my burger down the front of my Lee Denim jeans and rubbed it on my fur pile.

May 24th, 2005: I grabbed a fresh "Cheese Max" Supreme triple stack from a young boy on his bicycle and rammed it down my funnel before he could take it back. Then I kicked him into the road and stepped on his leg to prevent him from calling the police.

August 6th, 2009: During a full moon, I ripped open a fast food dumpster and found two homeless people making love. I pried them apart long enough to grab a moist handful of expired green burger meat to pound down my digestive tube.

I am sorry.

My Visit With Jesus In Heaven

Major news anchors and producers have been humping their desks and caressing their meaty testicles in anticipation for a story like this to drop in their warm, slighty moistened laps. And now that it's here, it's shocked the free world--most notably the scientific community--to it's very foundation.

It's been reported today that a young boy by the name of Jib Tupp has traveled to what christians refer to as "the misty lair" or "Jesus' mountiantop." In other words, the highest level of heaven. But the most amazing part is--Jib's has returned to tell the tale!

Jib's father, a member of "'R Grayce 'N Chryst" Church and avid science disbeliever, paraphrased his son's experience for us. "My son Jib fell off his high chair after a family prayer and conked his noggin on a crate full of bibles. My wife and I don't believe in science so we didn't take him to the hospital. We got some mason jars and started to catch the blood that was coming out of his head and bottle it up so we could put it back in his body later. After a couple of hours of being passed out in the Lord's Netherworld and bleeding from a broken skull, Jib woke up but he didn't say nothing. He just looked at us, smiling like he'd just seen the Holy Light. Then I asked him if he'd had a Christian experience in the "Tunnels of Ecstasy" and he shook his head yes. Than I asked him if he met the Lord and walked with him in the Vally of Good Times he shook his head yes."

When social workers got word of the boy being denied medical treatment by reason of religious dogma, they were required to make a house call to examine the boy's condition--as stated in Futter County Law. Medical examiner Plute Guffer noted the boy's unsavory condition. "After being unconscious for two hours, the brain becomes completely devoid of oxygen--leaving the victim in a state of complete and utter ragdoll-hood."

Despite the medical expert's analysis, Jib's father insists that Jib chooses not to speak as a result of getting "his getting touched on the nose by the finger of the lord." Jib's father rationalizes that after going through such a "dazzler of a Holy Touchdown" one thinks banal acts such as oral communication to be of little importance.

Reporting from Futter County, Aarkhinsaw. Cat's Crotch News Team.

Hacker Profile: Shadowlord 5000

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In a deliberate act of retribution, revered computer hacker "Shadowlord 500" fired a "wizard orb" virus into his ex-girlfriend Pat's Unicorn website, littering the homepage with lude images. The news of the incident has traveled to every corner of the hacker community. While many consider the vengeful act amusing, some consider it to be disgraceful to the hacker code of ethics.

As it turns out, Shadowlord's motives for revenge are fueled by anger and jealousy. To shed more light on the topic, we spoke to a source close with Shadowlord 5000, who explained to us that "Shadowlord is a Level 6 Giga-Prophet but an emotionally sensitive keyboard warrior, who's only Achilles heel was losing his true love to the fleshy embrace of another." We can only glean from that statement that Shadowlord is upset because his girlfriend cheated on him.

We were lucky enough to secure an interview with Shadowlord's ex-girlfriend Pat on her way to work at Tubby's Burger Shed. She explained to us that she was never untrue to Shadowlord, who she addressed as Derek. She said she went out to get a cup of ice cream at Blork's Cold Den with her study partner, Bod Funkus. But when Shadowlord rode by on his mountain bike, presumably after following her to the store to spy on her, he become emotionally crushed when he saw the two together. Shadowlord lost his bearings in the heat of the moment and crashed his bike into the curb right in front of the ice cream store window and tore the front of his jeans open. She explains the incident as extremely embarrassing for her, Bod and especially Shadowlord. She said after Shadowlord crashed, he picked himself up off the ground exposing a massive riff in the fabric of his "Old Tenor" denim jeans. Through the riff, everyone at the ice cream store had a full frontal view of his exposed privates, which were horribly scratched from the collision with the concrete. Everyone at the store broke into wild and furious laughter leading Shadowlord to hop back on his bent and broken bicycle and make the agonizing ten mile journey home in bitter tears of rage and confusion.

She said ever since then Shadowlord has failed to return her phonecalls and refuses to walk down the halls at school. Instead, she says he spends all day in the computer lab doing independent study with a moist towelette wrapped around his dasher. She hopes that they can one day be friends again and she has no hard feelings about the virus he infected her website with. "For the record," she says, "I haven't updated that unicorn website since Jr. High when I made it. All I care about now is spending time with my new boyfriend, Bod Funkus, the sweatiest most bulging man on the legball hustlers."

Science Crotch

A scientific emergency has gripped our nation in a blinding fervor this month, as American specialists have confirmed that there is a massive shortage of laser technology in several countries with the minimal requirement of MicDunalds food chains. As many subscribers probably don't know, lasers are not only used in skin treatments and listening to music, but they are also used in hair removal procedures, movie viewing, data reading, eye treatment, light measurements and visual entertainment. Some lasers are even applicable on the battlefield of war and fighting.

Without modern laser technology, people in Africa have had to resort to using Ancient Magic Laser Eyes, and while this sounds impressive, these lasers can only be used to send signals to other tribes. Laser color is also incredibly limited (red only, and sometimes orange if it's a shaman). In the meantime, military officials and charity groups have been fixating on providing the locals with trivial things, such as medical aid, food, educational books and protection against terrorists and warmongering dictators. Unfortunately, no matter how much they read, they can't play a CD or get rid of their back hair.

"Our efforts have been diverted and we've been distracted," says Attorney General Rick Godwizard, "we've promised these people democracy and a place at our side as we take that laser bridge into the future, and instead they're eating frozen honey and getting addicted to methadone."

Coverage for this story was brought to you by our sponsor and a special interest group, CLIT (Cultural Laser Initiative Tribune)

Yon-Yon Fantasia: The 6th Dimension

Brave adventurer Yon-Yon Fantasia knows there's more to life than what we see on a day to day basis. That's why she's dedicated her time to uncovering and documenting life's most fascinating mysteries for the betterment of all mankind.

Most Recently, Ms. Fantasia's bold adventures lead her to the syrupy, vile-smelling floor of the restroom in the Burning Cockbird Nightclub. As with most of Ms. Fantasia's scientific expeditions, her journey began with seven shots of straight rum and a few Oxycotin painkillers, to put her mind in a state of supreme inquiry. Before she dedicated herself to the full pursuit of knowledge, she began to rub on the enlarged crotches of antonymous males on the Burning Cockbird dance floor. Security even threatened to forcibly remove her from the establishment when she attempted to remove the jeans from one particular man named Sagebrush Jones. But not before she gave the security guard a piece of her mind. She explained, in no uncertain terms, that her intentions were fueled purely by logic and altruism, to create a brighter future for men, women and children by unlocking the secrets of the universe for the tangible benefit of the "Astro Generation." But the plead landed on deaf ears, as the security guard clearly did not share her concern for such pursuits. But instead of simply surrendering herself to the authority figure, Ms. Fantasia decided to throw her planned expedition into high-gear and make a bee-line for the women's restroom. After entering the female John, Ms. Fantasia, by now totally smashed rotten on rum, began to search for the tile, which she believed to be the key to unlocking the forbidden 6th dimension. Her ever-present intuition lead her to crawl on her hands and knees to the back of a toilet stall, behind the toilet, where she decided to set up basecamp. And there she stayed for the next three hours. But unlike most scientists, Ms. Fantasia prefers to let her unconscious mind do the work, never her waking mind. Without the barrier of consciousness standing in the way of discovery--Ms. Fantasia believes anything is possible.

So in her benumbed slumber, Ms. Fantasia ruminated on her best theories (which came in the form of sexualized dreams). When she awoke, around 2:30am, to the sound of the janitor mopping the next stall over, she was quick to arrive to a conclusion: the 6th dimension must lie not here, but at another night club altogether.

For as everyone knows, finding answers to life's biggest questions is never easy. The search requires years of dedication and many late nights of deep concentration and study.