I swear, this actually happened!
typed for your pleasure on 17 June 2005, at 12.23 amSdtrk: ‘Blue skied an’ clear’ by Slowdive
You can blame SafeT’s comments and excessive viewing of Zip Gun’s ‘The Day Today’ DVD for this ‘un.
ROUEN, FRANCE (AP) – The music and entertainment world was stunned when Michael Jackson, the 46-year old King of Pop and world-famous child-toucher, was fatally shot several times by an angry passerby.
Jackson was having what appeared to be an impromptu celebration, due to the dropping of his recent child molestation charges, at a restaurant called ‘Le Lapin Gonflé’, on the outskirts of Paris. According to eyewitnesses, Jackson made a protracted attempt to order crepes, when area cynic Jean-Jacques ‘Le Jacques’ Chirac walked up to the party’s table, pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket, and emptied the magazine into the singer’s chest.
‘The shooting itself just happened so fast,’ said Peter Hurpingerder, one of Jackson’s attendants. ‘Michael wanted to order ten pounds worth of crepes and cheese for all of us, but wanted to place the order in French. He never knew the language, so he was stuttering and mumbling his way through it for five minutes. The waiter asked him several times to please repeat what he had said, and with every repetition, Michael’s voice grew more and more faint and incomprehensible. He had just managed to stammer out “je suis le canard gigantesque”, when that guy from that table over there stood up, walked quickly towards Michael, and started shooting. I dropped my dinner roll in abject fear.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to finish that roll,’ Hurderpinger added.
Jackson was hastily strapped onto a makeshift gurney and rushed to a nearby hospital, but it was too late. His body then began to slowly dissolve into a gooey flesh-coloured paste. Handlers carefully scooped the paste into a bucket, where it will be shipped back to Jackson’s Neverland Ranch following what passes for an autopsy.
Chirac, 38, was apprehended by local gendarmes and hustled to a nearby police station. Upon questioning if he had planned to assassinate the singer, Chirac lit a Gauloise and took a long, meaningful drag. ‘No,’ he answered in French, ‘I just wanted him to either speak up or shut up. His voice was like a high-pitched mumbling, like a fly stuck in my ear, endlessly saying nothing that I could understand. I am not sorry for what I have done, because life, she is like a crazy merry-go-round, and you can only hop on it once.’ As he spoke, the smoke from his cigarette wafted lazily through the room, much like the haze of questions that the reporters would surely have for him upon release to the general public.
Chirac then extracted a harmonica from his shirt pocket and played a stirring rendition of ‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien’.
Upon hearing the news of their brother’s demise, Jermaine, Tito, and Harpo burst into loud, messy sobbing. Neither Janet or her breasts could be reached for comment.
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June 17th, 2005 at 11.23 pm
I am a big duck?!?
HA HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAAAHAAAHAAA!
Ah, language misunderstandings are my favorite type of schaedenfreudal humor.
Davecat, did you write this? Fucking priceless.
June 17th, 2005 at 11.25 pm
Still fickin’ laughin, you bitch. Now I need a kleenex.
June 18th, 2005 at 4.22 pm
Yep, I wrote it in a haze of Dr pepper sugar riot I MEAN, I GOT IT FROM A VERY REPUTABLE NEWS SOURCE ON THE INTERNET.
All told, I’d shoot a fellow too, if they claimed they were a giant duck. Have another Kleenex. 🙂