by Matt Reynolds
Once upon a time, whereupon a fine summers eve by peter did two fine ladies come by. They said to him henceforth:
"Wherefore do you procure such fine specimens of sausagery?"
"Uhh... this is stupid, what the hell is my brother typing," Peter replied. The fine ladies shone their eyes at him as if they were of the myopic variety.
"No, no this shall not do," fine lady number one replied. "We simply must know the origin of this fine charcuterie!"
"Indeed. It would appear that his methods of forming this fine food is, so to say, so densely proportioned in its affect that the chef in question has neither the resources nor the time to explicate its finer details to fine ladies such as you and i, dear sister."
"How unfortunate. I was prior unaware to the archetypal meta-complexity the structure of these wieners, nay, sausages, contain and I hereby apologize, as the angelic iconography of our nymph-like beauty has only created a feeling of unrest upon you, dear peter."
Peter was visibly annoyed and invisibly angry.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Peter proclaimed, standing upon his ramshackle chair as he rolled his eyes threefold towards the bizarre machinations of his brother's unique, yet not entirely sane, mind.
The first woman walked closer to peter.
"It would appear that the milieu of our machinations, both present and unpresent, as is apparent in this young man's demeanor, is serving to project his brother's monkey mind in manners twofold unpleasing to his person."
"And yet our bosoms are firm, our eyes are piercing, and the only thing we want is to know how he cooks his goddamn sausages."
"Shame, dear sister, shame! We mustn't express such things in the presence of this gentleman, as our minds are far exceeding the brilliance of our bodies, and I hereby proclaim that if we are to pierce the Gaian mind of this gentleman's milieu, we should, in essence, appear that which is proportionate, and then some, to the demeanor to this young man's social compatriots."
"I don't care what you're saying. Just get out. I have studying to do. Matt, why are you being so damn stupid?"
The women frowned.
"How unkind. Your dear brother has only sent us as emissaries to represent, so to say, his intentions of both writing, achieving clever dialogue, and annoying the crap out of you because he is bored."
"Sister, language. You must forgive my sister- she's only three months postpartum, you see, and the depression is creating in her an affect that alters the assemblage of her finer faculties. Moreover, we wish to apologize, sincerely, for the interruption of both your time and the advancement in your collegiate curriculum. Many thanks for your understanding- and farewell."
The ladies left the dorm. Joe popped out of his room, and said:
"Dude your brother's stupid."
"Right?" Peter replied, in antagonized haste.
"Also you suck with women."
And with that, Peter faced his computer and continued to play Team Fortress 2, much to the discontent of his brother.