Don't let such snaky words deceive you, valued reader; you can't trust Forbes to disseminate facts amidst fiction, but you can safely assume that kismet favors those that play Mario Kart DS with such skill and, subsequently, presume that our weekend was -despite the untimely demise of one Chocolate Chip Charlie- decidedly pristine.
I won't bother to make a list of the egregious lies purveyed by recent posts, as I trust that you're savvy enough to discern that Sparkles couldn't achieve a certifiable victory over me in Mario Kart if the fate of his prized Real Doll depended upon it. And if a guy willing to bend the truth on something so sacred, you must doubt his word on all other, lesser accounts.
I'll let everything else slide, but rest assured that my Magic 8-Ball responds with a resounding 'Absolutely Not' to the query of 'Will Forbes ever achieve victory in Mario Kart?' You heard it* here first, ladies and gentlemen.
Okay, now I'm the one that's lying: most everything else you read about the weekend's events is 100% accurate,** but that's not what I wanted to talk about, anyway, and you'll have to forgive me for lashing out in such a childish fashion (keeping in mind, of course, that I'm the true, eternal champion of Mario Kart DS).
What the Forbot neglected to mention was that we had a deeply introspective discussion about hushpuppies,*** specifically those of the Long John Silver's variety, not because they 'Put a smile on my taste!' but due to the fact that LJS is the quintessential post-toping meal for the discerning man.
Fried fish, chicken, shrimp, clams, fries, hushpuppies, antelope: if you can you name -or fry- it, Uncle Jonny can serve it up to you, all the goodies bathed in a malt vinegar so pungent as to make your tartar sauce-wielding adversaries whimper in dismay.**** The Crumblies alone make a perfect meal.
(Shortly after God introduces the intricacies of marital bliss to Adam and Eve)
Adam: Oh! Oh! That was incredible. The Holy Spirit and all that shit.
Eve: Yeah, it was good. It's the Holy Ghost, and don't go spraying it all over my breasts, okay?
Adam: Why not? That's the way God showed us how to do-
Eve: He demonstrated the act upon an unsuspecting Kodiak bear, which doesn't necessarily transfer to hu-
Adam: Now let me interrupt you! God was kind enough to show us how to perform this dainty display of utmost love right before his lone day of rest, and I intend to let him rest easy.
God: Fooled you! I decided against taking a day off, because I knew you'd be starving after all those delightful shenanigans, and I also promised my son that I'd make something actually worth his dying for. That's how much I care! Without further ado, I give thee...Crumblies!
Eve: Yeah, but there was this talking snake, see, and he already introduced me to the Chili Cheese Burrito. So, you know.
God: Bask in the light of my culinary prowess!
Eve: Wow, this is some good shit. Party in my mouth, and all that.
Adam: Hey, God, on the topic of mouths, what's the policy on them? I know you didn't do that with the bear, but help a brother out.
God: You know I can't actively encourage such things, but if Eve weren't here, and if I could wink convincingly, I'd be winking a lot right about now.
Eve: The only things going in this mouth are Crumblies. Could I have some more?
God: Sure, there are plenty to go around, and they're free with the purchase of any Variety Platter. Only $6.95!
Eve: Hold on, all I want are the Crumblies.
Adam: No, you hold on! That's a good deal. What kind of sauce could I get?
God: Tartar sauce!
Adam: You know it! Windmill high five coming at you, God.
God: That's a great idea. I'll have to sneak that into Top Gun somehow. I penned the script, by the way.
Adam: No way! Hey, while you're here, could you make a white horse with some horns?
God: How many horns?
God: Done! I shall call it a unicorn.
Eve: Fuck! You know I had my heart set upon a tetracorn, Adam!
Adam: No cock, no 'corn, baby.
That probably didn't help you whatsoever, so let me make it short and salty: Crumblies are fried chunks of batter, devoid of any kind of meat but full of greasy goodness. I could, honestly, be like a dog and eat them till I vomit or die. They're that good.
I should also mention another staple of the Long John Silver's experience: the Satisfaction Bell. Attached to the wall, beside the exit of every traditional LJS restaurant was a bell and plaque that stated (more or less) 'If you were satisfied with your meal, make sure to ring the bell!' and let me tell you, I can't recall the number of times I rang that bell like Hop Sing rang the triangle at dinnertime on Bonanza.
Personally, I think that a bell should be available at more places, and not just restaurants. In consideration of the decidedly preferential treatment I received from Sparkles's dog during my last visit to Casa del Forbes, for example, I hereby propose the installation of said bell on the premises. You know I'd be ringing it, and I don't think I'd be the only one to do so.*****
Nothing but the facts, ma'am.
McGruff the Crime Dog
* Veracity unfettered!
** The girl I made out with wasn't fifteen, she was fifteen going on thirty. That's the main difference between idealjetsam and myself.
**** If you prefer tartar sauce to malt vinegar, statistics show that you probably enjoy raping the elderly as well. No big thing, right? Oh, and if you employ both tartar sauce and malt vinegar for your order, then you're not bisexual but you do enjoy transsexual pornography. Change your life, ye sinners.
***** Just like fried food, waking up to a dog making a nest out of one's crotch has a profound effect upon impressionable youth.