It all started when our protagonist, Willem Dafoe, woke up in a bush. It was the first time it had happened. Feeling ridiculously angered, Willem Dafoe backhanded a mitten, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). A few minutes later, he realized that his beloved AK47 was missing! Immediately he called his best friend, George Clooney. Willem Dafoe had known George Clooney for (plus or minus) 1.2 billion years, the majority of which were enticing ones. George Clooney was unique. He was clever though sometimes a little... abrasive. Willem Dafoe called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.
George Clooney picked up to a very unhappy Willem Dafoe. George Clooney calmly assured him that most puppies sneeze before mating, yet kittens usually charismatically grimace *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Willem Dafoe. Why was George Clooney trying to distract Willem Dafoe? Because he had snuck out from Willem Dafoe's with the AK47 only five days prior. It was a striking little AK47... how could he resist?
It didn't take long before Willem Dafoe got back to the subject at hand: his AK47. George Clooney cringed. Relunctantly, George Clooney invited him over, assuring him they'd find the AK47. Willem Dafoe grabbed his couch and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, George Clooney realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the AK47 and he had to do it aptly. He figured that if Willem Dafoe took the '63 Comet, he had take at least seven minutes before Willem Dafoe would get there. But if he took the jet? Then George Clooney would be abnormally screwed.
Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, George Clooney was interrupted by eleven selfish oranges that were lured by his AK47. George Clooney turned red; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling puzzled, he recklessly reached for his oven mitt and recklessly slapped every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the jet rolling up. It was Willem Dafoe.
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Egg Roll King to pick up a 12-pack of salt shakers, so he knew he was running late. With a hasty leap, Willem Dafoe was out of the jet and went exotically jaunting toward George Clooney's front door. Meanwhile inside, George Clooney was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the AK47 into a box of staplers and then slid the box behind his ironing board. George Clooney was angered but at least the AK47 was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' George Clooney indiscriminately purred. With a careful push, Willem Dafoe opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some stupid ass in a Daewoo,' he lied. 'It's fine,' George Clooney assured him. Willem Dafoe took a seat proximate to where George Clooney had hidden the AK47. George Clooney yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Willem Dafoe was distracted. Almost immediately, George Clooney noticed a oafish look on Willem Dafoe's face. Willem Dafoe slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
George Clooney felt a stabbing pain in his neck when Willem Dafoe asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the AK47 right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A stupid look started to form on Willem Dafoe's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's forks from when she used to have pet puppies. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Willem Dafoe nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before George Clooney could react, Willem Dafoe randomly lunged toward the box and opened it. The AK47 was plainly in view.
Willem Dafoe stared at George Clooney for what what must've been four seconds. All of a sudden, George Clooney groped sassily in Willem Dafoe's direction, clearly desperate. Willem Dafoe grabbed the AK47 and bolted for the door. It was locked. George Clooney let out a flamboyant chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Willem Dafoe,' he rebuked. George Clooney always had been a little pestering, so Willem Dafoe knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before George Clooney did something crazy, like... start chucking forks at him or something. Almost immediately, he gripped his AK47 tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
George Clooney looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Willem Dafoe. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Willem Dafoe. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. George Clooney walked over to the window and looked down. Willem Dafoe was gone.
Just yonder, Willem Dafoe was struggling to make his way through the cornfield behind George Clooney's place. Willem Dafoe had severely hurt his thigh during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral oranges suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the AK47. One by one they latched on to Willem Dafoe. Already weakened from his injury, Willem Dafoe yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of oranges running off with his AK47.
But then God came down with His easygoing smile and restored Willem Dafoe's AK47. Feeling pleased, God smote the oranges for their injustice. Then He got in His 5.0 Mustang and bolted away with the fortitude of 2,000 wallabies running from a enlarged pack of capybaras. Willem Dafoe skipped with joy when he saw this. His AK47 was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in ten minutes his favorite TV show, Soylent Green, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When kittens meet unborn fetus'). Willem Dafoe was giddy. And so, everyone except George Clooney and a few ebola-toting otters lived blissfully happy, forever after.
Bravo! Bravo! Encore!
And good to see you back