People tend to be a little messed up here at the Moorview. You've got the fools who try to do everything out of order: the put their plates upside down on their trays and then put the food on the bottom of the plate, they take a shower and then take their clothes off, they write a book and put in chapters 18, 19, and 20 before they do chapter seventeen...
Okay, so let's just call this "the lost chapter" cuz I left the paperwork on my nightstand last week and didn't turn it in, and then I found it used as paper airplanes and spent an hour trying to round them all up.
After that mess, I had to type me a whole new introduction to this saga to explain why this chapter is out of order.
Anyways, this is me, Bobby Lee, again. I'm gonna take these few pages and tell you about our little Spoof enterprise. After all, that's one of the things that we do for fun and creativity and because it makes Mark Lowton a buttload of money and gives us something to do besides play with ourselves.
I think I already gave you a little history of our spoofing. Mark Lowton is both our chief administrator, editor, facility owner, and a patient. He isn't as funny as us (so we all laugh at his stuff just out of kindness), but he is the boss.
In fact, Mark can't grow a mustache. He wants one real bad and is always pulling hair out of a trashcan or out of the barber shop (located next door to the library in the basement of the Hub, but that's a different story) and glueing it on his face. It usually looks stupid and the color never matches, but we don't tell him.
One day, one of the women folk in the ladies sexual deviant building gave herself a Brazilian in the barber shop. A few minutes later, Mark came in, saw those short and curlies lying there, and glued them to his face. We all figured that this was the closest his tongue had ever come to muff diving and all complimented him on his new rug.
The doofus never knew...guess he wasn't familiar with that smell either.
Anyway, Mark ran our little Spoof endeavor and made himself big bucks on the ads, while we got points for chocolate bars and cigarettes.
I was saving my points. I had almost four million on hand and was going to use them for something special, but I hadn't decided on what. Maybe a king sized bed with magic fingers and a big screen tv.
Other folks, however, used up their points real fast. They'd get fifteen points for adding a new story and rating it themselves, watch until it got to two hundred fifty points, and run down and get themselves one cigarette or one Hershey's kiss.
Some of the people would give their points to one of the ladies in the female sexual deviant ward in exchange for a blow job or a look at their tits or maybe even going all the way (on a solid, 20,000 point story). We called the ladies that provided these services "points whores." Guys who would spend their 2000 points just for a peek at some snatch or nipple were just "whoring for eyeballs."
What did Mark do with the money that he got from the advertising? He wasted it.
He bought cases of toasted sandwiches, even though the doctors and the courts forbid him to use the equipment needed to heat them properly. He bought deviled eggs by the gallon that made him fart horribly. He bought beer...well, he called it beer. It was really just apple juice because the place was supposed to be alchohol free, but Mark would run around with his apple juice poured into old beer bottles and mugs and pretend it was the real thing.
Of course, we'd piss in his beer bottle stash every time we could, cuz the idiot had no sense of taste and couldn't tell the difference between Mott's Harvest Select Apple Juice and 45 Year Old Jaundiced Man Piss.
Some of our writers are pretty funny dudes. You've got Bucky, who writes stories about the man with the world's biggest penis. Bucky thinks that he's really that guy, and duct taped an eighteen inch piece of surgical tubing to his dick about two years back. It gave him a rash, or course, and now he has to put cortizone cream on his Johnson every time he changes the tape. I think he just likes having the nurses rub on the cream, but he says otherwise.
We've got another writer who has written, and then deleted, thousands of stories about his own feces. He calls them his turd stories. He's written I don't know how many Odes and sonnets and tributes to his poop. He's also written stories about celebrity poop and even pieces about petrified poop from historical figures. He wrote one about Jesus and The Holy Shit. His current pen name is The Zit, but he also has dozens of others he used. He convinced everyone that he was a veterinarian for a time and comes up with a new one every now and then.
Over half of the population here contributes stories, jokes, or one liners, but some do it more than others. Maybe my next entry can tell you some more about other writers.
We go through cycles with our stories. At one time, everything was all about Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. At other times, it's been about the Harry Potter stars or the Twilight stars or something else current or topical.
One of the guys, who changes back and forth between being a Military Colonel in a banana republic and being a skanky female prostitute, was on a campaign for a while to get us not to use the words naked, nude, titty, boob, pussy, or penis in our headlines. He said that, when we were doing that, we were just chasing points and wanting the stuff from the ladies. Well duh!
Lately, our writers have been making fun of Taylor Swift's breasts because....well...she doesn't have any. She's just as flat chested as Keira Knightley or Kate Moss or....a two by four. If we continue this, our nuthouse will probably get a letter from her agent asking us to stop making fun of Taylor's titlessness. When that happens, Mark will tell us we have to make fun of someone else.
Anyway, that's all of the original part of the chapter that I could find. I think that I talked in the rest about some of the troll writers who have tried to take things over and about some of our writers contests.
Our last contest was to write a story about one of our pairs of co-joined twins. The winner got to peek through the hole in the back of the picture into Eloise Altoids office for a day. The guy who won said that it was pretty boring because she didn't rub her tits or scratch her crotch or get naked even once.
His other prize was 30,000 points, and he's been using that for some sexual favors from one of the girls named Chamone. I haven't had the heart to tell him that the hot nineteen year old giving him his blowjob a day for two weeks is really a guy.
That, however, is the kind of thing that goes on here. You never can believe your eyes and you shouldn't believe what anyone tells you. Who knows, this may all be a lie too!
Anyway, I've got to get back to sweeping. Maybe I'll find the rest of that chapter. If not, I'll just tell you more about what happens here at Moorview.
If you are interested in reading other chapters in the Moorview saga, here they are: