tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72660140797259357622024-02-20T04:38:40.901-08:00Brian BundersonLonely guy from Manitoba.Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-12400109919019637862011-05-19T06:23:00.000-07:002011-05-19T11:42:57.603-07:00Healing Fountain<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Damn, that pie was good. Brian inhaled the flakey gooey goodness like there was no tomorrow. As Brian laid there licking his plate, he realized a mob had been staring him down during the past few seconds it took him to devour his pie. The pie that he had blown up like a balloon, rose into the sky, descended from the heavens, and cut everyone in line to claim. Good thing he did it in such an epic fashion. "You guys should try the pie", he said. The faces following his comment were not amused. Brian decided to seize the awkward moment and blow that joint. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Back to rollin. He took a right out the back door and then a right on to Maple St. The turn on to Maple St. was like being born again. The Maple St. fountain roared with beauty! Brian felt tingly. Something was happening. His eyes rolled back and he started to twitch. He twitched harder. The twitches increased with every moment. He was having a full blown seizure. Beams of light bursted from his stubs! He flailed and screamed! His body rose five feet into the air! Then it fell. His eyes rolled back into place. He inhaled deeply, stood up, lifted his arms into the air, and exhaled a new man. </div>Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-19539339057978208252011-05-09T07:03:00.000-07:002011-05-09T19:23:13.493-07:00Pie GodsTHhump! Brian fell out of his chair. Cursing under his breath, Brian rolled out of the restaurant and into the free air. Outside Brian was smacked by the taunting aroma of fresh baked pie. The thick streams of scent flowed into his nostrils and rested on his palate, peach and blueberries, yum. Brian sprawled out on the curb and let the stench seep into every square inch of his body. Only somehow it literally seeped into his body. Eyes closed and mouth open, Brian swelled up like a balloon. As Brian opened his eyes he saw an old friend named Mr. Farsk walk out the restaurant. And with the gust created by the swinging door, Brian sailed high into the sky. Up past the rooftops, he could see that the entire town was dark except for the diner. With extraordinary effort Brian aimed his body down towards the diner and began the descent. As the diner grew nearer, Brian could make out a massive crowd surrounding the place. After every second, roars from the crowd grew louder. Then there was an exclamation followed by immediate silence. He had been spotted. A synchronized gasp erupted, and he slipped into the back room with the oven to claim his prize.Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-38405325092751970512011-05-02T06:46:00.000-07:002011-05-02T07:22:41.510-07:00Date with Fart FaceBrian awoke from his slumberous bath in a restaurant, sitting across from that fart face from the freak show. They ate dinner, made conversation, and it sucked! Forced to eat like a dog, Brian's experience in the restaurant was embarrassing to say the least. Fart Face's adequate vocabulary and presence of limbs degraded Brian to dirt. "He thinks he's so charitable, sitting with a cripple like me. People probably think he's embarrassed to be with me, well I'm embarrassed to be with him!", Brian thought furiously. When Fart Face's fart face was turned, Brian clenched his steak knife with his teeth and stabbed his wound savagely letting his innards ooze into Fart Face's drink. <div>The innards of the octopus people have been known to have extraordinary powers. With the taste of fruit punch and the hallucinogenic effects comparable to large doses of LSD, Brian knew Fart Face wouldn't be abducting him for anymore surprise dinners. <div> </div></div>Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-61613343329061472392011-03-30T06:33:00.000-07:002011-03-30T07:00:45.803-07:00Fart FaceThe man who stared looked like a little bitch. You know, one of those faces that provokes punching. Brian would have acted if he had fists. Instead he was left to humoring the man's stupid comments. The man was undoubtedly a Fart Face. Brian waited for a pause in conversation and took advantage of it to roll away from painful conversation. He rolled back to his apartment. He desperately craved a bath. <div>In his bathtub Brian dreamed of the leggy blondes before they used him as a grown-man-baby. They were frolicking in a green pasture full of bunnies and an assortment of extremely cute mythical creatures. But then the sky filled with dark clouds and roaring thunder. Brian swung his head around to see that the leggy blondes were growing tails and thorns. The bunnies had red eyes and the earth opened up to reveal a glowing underworld. As fast as he could manage Brian rolled away from the growing abyss.</div>Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-581470234196524212011-03-30T05:51:00.000-07:002011-03-30T06:18:19.750-07:00Naked Ladies and Flashing LightsOoh la laaah, the present view is very stimulating. A very long-legged leggy blonde approaches Brian's torso. She smiles and picks him up like a baby. "You will make a fine infant for our new act" she says. <div>The next few hours were filled with several leggy blondes pampering Brian to the point of exhaustion. After the ordeal, Brian lay stuffed into a onesy and bonnet with powder and makeup smothered on his face. Just as he thought nothing could be worse than this, he was plopped into a crib and blasted by beams of light followed by a roar of laughter. The leggy blondes then proceeded to prance around his crib singing some sick song about a grown-man-baby. Sweat beads started rolling down Brian's forehead and then Brian started rolling out of that crib and outa there! Brian rolled out of a large circus tent and into a large crowd running from a fire. Brian decided to stay put while the crowd swarmed around him. Just as he thought his head was about to be crushed for the 50th time a naked man stopped in his tracks and stared.</div>Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-83085342362058498112011-03-04T06:59:00.000-08:002011-03-18T07:16:57.399-07:00TransformationBrian falls with the snow above him and the snow below him. The snow above keeps falling, until the sky opens and light floods the cave. Brian is stuck with a boulder crushing each limb. He flexes every muscle hoping to budge his way out but instead his torso is ripped from the rest of his body. Pink goo runs from Brian's new stubs and the wounds seal up quickly. This is the most fun Brian has ever had. First a snow ball fight and now the discovery of a mysterious cavern. Besides Brian's new absence of all four limbs this day has been quite a success. Brian ponders life for a few minutes and then rolls out of the cave. This new mode of transportation is fun.<div>Rollin rollin rollin... Rawhide! He's on a mission, a mission from God. Brian rolls through town at lightning speed and then screeches to a halt when the corner of his eye catches some naked ladies and flashing lights.</div>Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-25880578043383982402010-12-17T13:54:00.000-08:002011-03-04T06:59:45.710-08:00Christmas Time Yay!The rain becomes less wet and more cold. White flakes stick to grass and slowly consume the entire cemetery. With a twinkle in his eye and a pip in his step, Brian undresses. The slush between his tentacles feels like mud between toes. Brian wallows in the cemetery for a good five minutes. He gives it a rest once his entire body is numb. It was worth it. The clothes come back on and he proceeds to build an igloo. Oh yeah this is gonna be a nice igloo. Brian scurries around accumulating mounds of snow and then proceeds to pack the snow into a smooth dome. He wishes he had this made when he was a child. The person to igloo ratio would have been much grander.<br />Then breaking through the sky came an attack! Brian rushed under the cover he had luckily just created and made one hundred snow balls. His snowball making skills are like that of Buddy the Elf. Like a cannon Brian returned fire. Ten minutes passed without action, then thirty. Brian's adrenaline was run out and he was thinking about creeping out of his igloo when the thing collapsed.Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-30535843148335439502010-09-23T17:27:00.000-07:002010-09-23T17:53:08.167-07:00That nightBrian wakes up every day, and its the same routine. Why does he live in Watershed Heights anyway? This place sucks. He has a crappy job cleaning up crap. The pores on his feet get no time to breath. He's had these stinkin octopus feet his whole life, and no one cares. Brian thought people might think his feet were cool. Maybe scientists would even study him. His gills haven't brought him much attention either. Chicks don't dig guys who can breath under water as much as they used to. <br />It starts to rain. Brian says, "screw this"; he's not going to work anymore. He's going to goof around at the cemetery. <br />The cemetery bears many stones and one sleeping guy. The guy looks like he peed his pants. That's funny. Brian leaves the guy a note in his left breast pocket that reads:<br /><br />Dear guy,<br />You seem cool. I think I'm pretty cool. I have gills and weird octopus feet, and that's why I sleep in a bathtub at night. Maybe we should get together some time and each enjoy a smoke and a pancake.<br />Your dear friend - BrianBrian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-44673669519577253412010-09-01T16:31:00.000-07:002010-09-01T17:08:17.645-07:00same dayOn Brian's way through the lobby he spots a gorgeous woman playing sousaphone. She sounds fabulous. Brian wishes he could toss her some change but not really because he wants all his change for himself. He rushes out the door to avoid any awkward encounters. He is nearly out the door when he slips and falls flat on his face. Brian hates wearing shoes. He hates walking in general. His childhood in lake Winnipeg did not prepare him for this. The embarrassment from falling is overwhelming. As quickly as possible he scrambles to his feet and sprints away from Watershed Heights.<br />He always tries to keep his arrival at work under the radar. Why should he? It's probably because he smells of dead fish. I guess he's shy too.Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7266014079725935762.post-51299808462110726062010-08-18T19:38:00.000-07:002010-08-18T19:56:33.808-07:00Brian: Day 1Brian wakes up. His head lifts out of the tub slowly. He didn't sleep too well. The cramped space of the tub is getting old. Today he will buy something much nicer to sleep in, maybe a kiddie pool! For now he cracks his neck and creeps into the kitchen. The walls around his apartment are so thin, and his neighbors hate disturbances, especially around their bedtime. Brian works the night shift as the janitor at the local strip club: Second Chances. For breakfast/dinner Brian has himself some canned sardines and toast. He loves toast. After that and a cup of Joe, its into his jumpsuit and off to work.Brian Bundersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09812017814345197921noreply@blogger.com0