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What's brown and rhymes with Snoop

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Sc-HOO-HA-lastic Books

http://i.imgur.com/AuyjAus.gifv holy shit, ash's sliggoo is badass

Part two. Anyway, after closing time last Tuesday, at around seven o’clock, I took the gift shop’s garbage bin down to the trash room, before exiting by the back door. And that’s where I saw it. Him. I don’t know, you tell me. Imagine a man-sized lime green fish. Now imagine its flippers are replaced with arms. Still with flippers or something on the end, but arms. It has two eyes, which are vertically aligned in the center of its “face.” Extending from the top of its head are black ovoid antennae. And to top it all off, it’s floating vertically, its tail fin about three inches off the ground. Exactly what pronoun am I supposed to use here? We stared at each other for a few moments. I felt like a deer in the headlights. The whatever-it-was broke the silence. “Greetings.” Its voice was almost male, but it had an echoing effect to it, as if it was speaking into a bowl. The shock of hearing it actually talk snapped me back into alertness. “Uh… hi?” Sort of. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to a local place of authority?” Did… did the alien just ask me to take it to my leader? Well, I didn’t have any way to talk to the president or anything, but… “I guess I could call the police or something? They might be able to help you.” “I would be grateful.” The thing’s extreme politeness was honestly rather unsettling. I took my cell phone from my pocket, and considered. I didn’t want to call 911- this wasn’t exactly an emergency, and they would probably just think it a prank. I decided to call the actual station instead. After quickly looking up the number, I dialed. “Washington police station, how may I help you?” “Yes, hello, um, do you think you could send a car or two to the back entrance of the Air and Space Museum?“ “I could do that, yes, but why? If it’s an emergency you should have dialed 911.” “Well, I have no idea how to say this without sounding like a crazy person, but… There’s some kind of space-fish-thing here, and it’s talking. I figured 911 would just hang up on me, so I tried the station.” I must have sounded like an idiot or a drunk. In retrospect, I wonder if that made them believe me more or less. “I’ll see what I can do. Stay where you are, and someone will come to pick you up.” Yep, they thought I was drunk. I put the phone away, and turned to the alien. “Well, they said they’d send someone to pick us up. It’ll probably be about five minutes.” “Who will be sent?” Damn it, now I had to explain police to an alien. I’m sure when people thought of first contact, it wasn’t a gift shop employee meeting the alien behind a museum. “The police. They’re law enforcement, and they’ll be able to direct you to the government or whoever you want to talk to.” The alien’s flipper-arms twitched slightly. “Your culture has an organization dedicated to ensuring that its citizens keep to a certain standard?” “Does your culture not have that?” “There are approximately two thousand five hundred of us. Every one of us keeps to a standard taught to us in our formative years, and there is no need for an organization to enforce that.” The idea of a culture that didn’t need law enforcement was pretty interesting- wait a minute. “Did you say two thousand five hundred?” Its head inclined in a brief imitation at a nod. “Yes. How many individuals are in your population?” Holy crap. Twenty-five hundred. That was the extent of their species. I saw more than that in the museum every day. The idea that the first alien species to make contact with us had such a tiny population was mind-boggling. I think I’d have preferred it if there were trillions of them. “…Seven billion. In this city there are about six hundred thousand people.” The alien’s body stilled for a moment, before it recovered. “Astounding. That is two million, eight hundred thousand times that of our number.” At that awkward juncture, a police car pulled slowly into the empty parking lot. The lights were on, but no sirens. The door opened, and- “Greetings.” I’ll be entirely honest. After getting the skeptical treatment from the other end of the phone, I took some vindictive pleasure in seeing the officer frozen, one leg still in his car, staring at the space-fish with his jaw dropped. After a moment, he recovered and reached back into the car for the radio. “Uh, dispatch? You know that museum call you sent me on? The guy you said was probably drunk, said there was an alien?” I knew it. “There actually is some kind of alien here. It’s like a space fish.” Hey, that’s what I said. I wondered if “space fish” would be on the headlines as the cop finished his call and put the radio away. “Well, they said to bring it… him… down to the station, and they’ll get in contact with whoever.” Made sense, and I knew what he’d say next as he turned to me. “I think you’d better come with me too, as a witness.” Yep. I nodded, and got in the back of the car first. The alien followed after me with a prompt from the officer, who then got into the driver’s seat. As we drove to the station, the officer raised another pertinent question. “So… do you have a name?” After a few seconds of silence, I turned to my right. “He’s asking you that.” “My apologies, I did not realize. Yes, my name is Guy Nine-Two-Three.” I had to ask. I knew the number was probably an official designation or something, considering the civilization only had twenty-five hundred, but… “Guy? Your name is Guy?” “In our civilization, our last name is the number we are assigned to keep the society properly organized. We are allowed to choose our first name once we come of age.” I imagine having numbers as last names would make paperwork a lot easier. But still, what are the odds that the first alien humanity ever makes contact with would actually be named Guy? i'm so sorry, guy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zC_osPetDNA

Apparently it was a rape/violence against women awareness march. In other words, he's a douchebag. BUT LAWL, THOSE CRAZY FEMINISTS, AMIRITE? Go the fuck back to 8chan, Argeon.

you can't back out now, slick

The Fesh Pince of Blair 1 and 2, please.

I had a dream that I was sexually assaulted but the girl was cute so it all works out in the end

what's the difference between a circus and a playboy magazine