Puppet Kaos - where Kelvin Kao plays with puppets and tell random stories

The timing of the arrest of the 10 Russian spies this month prompted serious questions about whether it had to do with an upcoming film. The movie, titled “Salt” and starring Angelina Jolie, was about CIA agent Evelyn Salt who was accused of being a KGB sleeper agent and was on the run to clear her name. The date which the arrests took place was right before the release of the movie and this raised suspicions among the public, especially the conspiracy theorists.

Today, a confidential document leaked from a major movie distribution studio confirmed that it was indeed a publicity stunt. The 10-page document was a contract between the FBI and the studio detailing the responsibilities of each party and the payout structure. The FBI was to coincide the time of the arrests with the film release to bring more hype to the movie, and in return, the studio would pay a commission based on the box ticket numbers.

In fact, there were more of these contracts between the FBI and movie studios that were leaked. For example, the FBI has been secretly monitoring many alien robots in disguise. These robots, known as the Decepticons, are hiding in plain sight as cars, cassette players, and other household items. According to the contract, the FBI was to make the arrest just prior to the July, 2011 release of Transformers 3 for it to gain publicity. However, the FBI denied the authenticity of the said document.

“Yes, we are keeping tabs on alien robots,” said Agent Fox Mulder, the FBI agent in charge of investigating extraterrestrial and paranormal activities. “But the claim that we based our investigation on movie release dates simply isn’t true. This is not happening.”

In yet another document, details of a collaboration between law enforcement and movie studios were laid out for an upcoming Western. According to the agreement, 10 Indians would be arrested just prior to the release of the film featuring the classic cowboys versus Indians match-up. The document even went into details about how the arrest would be carried out. The following leaked text clearly indicated the FBI’s intention to make these arrests in groups of three: “One little, two little, three little Indians; Four little, five little, six little Indians; Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians; Ten little Indian Boys.”

Local enforcement seemed to be displeased with the FBI’s involvement in these cases.

“Look, the cowboys and Indians had stopped fighting long ago,” said Texas Ranger Cordell Walker, who was himself a cowboy. “The war was over, much like the Cold War and they should stop picking fights just for movie promotions.”

“I have worked in law enforcement around Hollywood for a long time,” said Detective Axel Foley of the Beverly Hill Cops. “Never have I thought the relationship between law enforcement and the movie industry would be tangled together like this.”

The FBI denied its involvement with these movie promotion deals, but announced that it would start an internal investigation headed by its own lie detection expert Dr. Cal Lightman, assisted by consultant Patrick Jane from the California Bureau of Investigation.

“This case was so bizarre that it could be made into a movie,” said a film director who declined to be named. “Don’t be too surprised if you see it in theaters everywhere next year. The truth is out there and it’s stranger than fiction.”

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Once upon a time, there was a little town called Apiaoville. The residents were mostly farmers and lived a simple life during this simple time. However, things were about to change when a farmer named Richard George Hoffman was executed.

Hoffman was a honest farmer who grew pumpkins on his land. However, quarrals with fellow farmer Bill Hath over land ownership eventually led to his demise. One day Hath killed another man and framed it on Hoffman. Hath was so clever that the judge believed him and as a result, Hoffman was executed. Little did the town people knew that this was the beginning of a crisis.

On Halloween, the night that the Devil’s magical power was the strongest, a strange event unfolded at the town cemetary. Roger Landley was the first to witness this, as he was a grave digger who was not very good at digging and often had to work extra hours into the night. He saw the soil moving, and finally, fingers started coming out of the ground, and then hands started reaching out. Landley saw this and froze.

He was horrified. What was going on? He wanted to get out of there, but his body apparently wasn’t responding. Finally, zombies started crawling out of the graves, one by one.

Suddenly, he was tapped on the shoulder by a finger. It was cold as Hell and it sent chills up his spine. He jumped up and saw that it was a zombie that touched him. Having snapped out of that frozen state (due to an even colder touch), he ran and ran back into the town. He reported this to the preacher Jonathan Blair. Preacher Blair frowned and told Landley to gather all the town’s people to the meeting house.

An hour later, the whole town was at the meeting house. Some were standing outside peeking through the window, because apparently, not all of them could get in.

“Townspeople, I gather you here to tell you, that the Prophesy of Davidson had been fulfilled,” said Preacher Blair.
“What is that?” Someone asked.
“The Prophesy foretold that when the blood of the innocent is spilled, Hell breaks loose and zombies come out,” said Preacher Blair.

The people started to murmur.

“Now, I gather you here to all think of ways to get rid of the zombies, because Davidson was known as the half-ass prophet and did not foretell that part,” said Preacher Blair, “Any ideas?”
“Fire?” someone shouted out a suggestion.
“Throw Bibles at them?” said another person in the crowd.
“Now those are all very good suggestions,” said Preacher Blair, “but some other zombie-infested towns have tried those and failed. We need something different.”
“Fear!” somebody shouted out. Everybody turned their head. It was Larry Sherlock, the smartest man in town.
“Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Sherlock?” asked Preacher Blair.
“I think we should fight fear with fear,” said Sherlock, “If we all dress up as ghosts that’s even scarier than theirs, maybe they will be scared to death, again.”
“It’s so crazy that it just might work!” said Preacher Blair.

So people all went home and dressed up as ghosts and they proceeded to the cemetary. When the townspeople and zombies finally met each other face to face, the townspeople started to do the scariest faces that they could think of. However, the zombies were not terrified at all and proceeded to kill people.

“Run away!” Preacher Blair declared. People all started running away. Mary Silverman was among the one running away. However, when she was running, her dress was caught in tree branches and that tore off the fabric. She was standing there with her luscious bare legs showing.

The townspeople (especially the guys) all stopped to stare at her legs, forgetting that there were zombies, while the zombies actually ran away in fear. The townspeople were relieved, but puzzled. They looked at one another and scratched their heads.

The preacher thought for a while and finally figured out what was going on.

“People, let’s not forget all these zombies all died quite a while ago and you know what that means?” said the Preacher.
Everybody shook his or her head.
“They were really old ghosts which means they are very conservative ghosts! Really conservative ghosts were terrified of legs!” said the Preacher, “Ghost costumes are not enough to scare them, but slutty costumes are! If this ever happen again, we shall all dress up slutty and they will be scared away!”

Everybody agreed. So the next time it happened, they were prepared with their sexy nurse, sexy schoolgirl, sexy maid, and all these other sexy costumes. And this was the origin of all the slutty costumes today.

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This story is part of the One Thousand and One Nights of Stupidity Series, a series of stories that insult people’s intelligence. Visit this link for the premise of the story and other installments.

King Shagua loved Jane’s stories, so he wanted to hear another one.
“Here, your majesty, is a story about a man with way too many locks…” said Jane.

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw… yet another lock.

“Another lock? What was I thinking?” He grumbled and continued to look for the key on his hula hoop. Yes, Hula hoop. Normal people used a small key chain, but he had so many keys that a Hula hoop was the only option.

Meet Gary Morrison. He was once a successful banker, with a beautiful house, a beautiful wife, two beautiful children and a beautiful dog. He was earning big and living large. All these changed after that one morning that he left the door open during breakfast. Normally that wasn’t a big deal, but his dog happened to be particularly stupid. The dog wandered off and could not find his way back.

The family was devastated. They sent out a big search team because rich people could afford that, but they couldn’t find the dog. Some people claimed that the dog stepped into a balloon and flied off, but that was never confirmed. They even checked all the boxes in the attic but did not find anything. He blamed himself. He kept on asking himself what he could’ve done.

One day, he was complaining to his friend Tommy Jefferson, another successful businessman.

“You know, I never knew that losing something can hurt so much,” said Gary with a sigh.
“Yeah, I am sorry, man,” said Tommy, “You’ve got to carefully guard what you own.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” asked Gary.
“Oh, of course,” said Tommy, “You’ve got to have more locks in your life.”
“Locks?” asked Gary.
“I’m a great believer in lock, and I find the harder I work, the more lock I have.” Tommy said.
“You mean, I should lock up everything I have, so I never lose them?”
“You got the idea, man,” said Tommy, “My friend Lawrence King once told me ‘Those who have succeeded at anything and don’t mention lock are kidding themselves.’ Couldn’t have said it better myself!”
“You know what? I will do that!” said Gary, “Do you know any good locksmith?”
“Yeah, just a second.” Tommy dug through his wallet and handed Gary a business card. “This is my locksmith. Call her up!”

Gary took the business card and made an appointment with the locksmith, Sheryl Temple Black. She came the next day and installed a giant lock on the door.

“But how do I know it’s a good lock?” asked the somewhat skeptical Gary.
“Oh honey,” answered the cheerful locksmith, “Good lock needs no explanation, okay?”
“But…”
“I’ll give you a refund if it doesn’t work out, okay? Here’s your bill, have a nice day!”

She got in her truck and drove off before he could utter a word, but the lock did work well. It had been two weeks and no dog of his has ever wandered off again!

Of course, part of that was because he did not have a dog anymore, but it was good lock nevertheless. He started to get obsessed with locks. He would put several new ones on a door every month. And finally, when banks started going bankrupt (because of the financial crisis and because you can’t spell “bankrupt” without “bank”), he bought the building from one of the failed banks. This became his dream home.

In his mind, the bank vault was his perfect habitat. It had several locks on each door. You had to open multiple doors before you could really get inside. Each door was bullet proof and could lock out everything, even moisture. It was perfect!

But apparently his family didn’t think so. They could not stand the locks anymore. One day they all went to work and school and never came back. Some said they flied off in a balloon, but it was never confirmed. This got him mighty depressed.

Why did he still fail to keep what he loved, when he had so many locks in place? What was going on? He consistently asked himself the question. Meanwhile, he installed more locks, because he simply could not lose any more things.

Enough flashback. Let’s look at Gary now. Still opening locks? Apparently he had so many locks to open that he still wasn’t done going through all the locks while we’ve already told a good chunk of his life story. He was actually getting annoyed and frustrated himself with the locks.

Suddenly he heard a voice behind him. “Good morning, chief.”

He turned around. It was a burly man with a huge grin.

“Raul Waldo Emerson, chief,” He reached his hand out for a handshake to a confused Gary. “I am the handyman you called in to fix your drain?”
“Oh,” replied Gary, “You’ll have to wait. Door’s not open yet.”
“What’s with all the locks, chief?” asked Raul.
“Well, the locks are here to make my life better.”
“But I can see they are making your life miserable.”
“Hm.”
“You sir, are a shallow man,” said Raul.
“Excuse me?” Gary was a little offended.
“Shallow men believe in lock. Strong men believe in cause and effect.” said Raul. “Come on, I can make your life better.”

Gary looked at the man in front of him. Yeah, this man was happy, unlike himself. Maybe he was onto something.

“So, what should I do now?” asked Gary.
“See, you got locks, chief,” said Raul, “Sure you locked some things in, but look at all that you’ve locked out! You’ve got to tear the locks down!”
“How do I do that?” asked Gary.
“Remember I said strong men believe in cause and effect? Well, you be strong now.”

Raul pulled out a sledgehammer. “Look, this is the cause.”

Raul lifted up the sledgehammer and went straight at the lock. A few blows later, he managed to smash the lock.

“That’s the effect, chief.” Raul wiped off the sweat on his forehead. “Now you try.”

Gary picked up the sledgehammer and went for the next lock. He was hesitant at first, but he started having more and more fun.

“Oh my god! I am loving this!” Gary kept going and going. He felt as if the locks on his mind had been smashed away because it was simply easier to use whatever he was already doing as the metaphor instead of thinking of another one. When he finally smashed the last lock. He had a silly grin on his face.

“Wow!” Gary cried out.
“Much better, chief?” asked Raul, with a grin.
“Hell yea! Whole lot better! I can never thank you enough!”

Gary turned and gave Raul a big hug. Raul was amused.

“Now I just got to find my wife and kids back,” said Gary, “That might be difficult though.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I already sent out my friend, who is a police officer, to look for them.”

They turned around and the family were there.

“Go to them now and talk things over with a sledgehammer,” Raul said.

“Wow, it was so easy to end the story when you have a cop out,” said King Shagua.
“Yep, exactly,” said Jane.
“I have a question,” Violet raised her hand, “Why is the family talking things over with a sledgehammer at the end? Are they tearing down their metaphorical boundaries with it?”
“Oh, no, that’s a different kind of sledgehammer. You know, Vodka, lime juice, and Sunny Delight.” Jane said.
“I do like Sunny Delight!” said Violet.
“Oh yes, sledgehammer,” said Jane, “There’s something in it for everyone.”

This story is inspired by the writing prompts on the Writing Forward blog. The blogger receives no compensation for mentioning Sunny Delight in case FCC is wondering. You may contribute random story ideas or quotes in the comments section and they just might end up in the next story.

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This story is part of the One Thousand and One Nights of Stupidity Series, a series of stories that insult people’s intelligeance. Visit this link for the premise of the story and other installments.

Jane fired up the royal video conference software on the royal laptop. Joining her on the other side of the royal internet, was her sister Violet (who was not royal, but sometimes a royal pain in the ass).

“Hey sis, would you tell me a story?” said Violet.
“Of course!” said Jane. “But, I need to ask the Dear King first.”
“Oh, go right ahead!” cried King Shagua, “I love stories, especially if there are talking animals in them!”
“Then you are going to like this one,” said Jane. “This, is a story about a talking cat.”

A Cat was walking along a forest path while carrying a piano. An Elephant saw that and got really curious.

“Hey, Cat, why are you carrying a piano?” asked the Elephant.
“Oh, I am looking for a good place to play,” said the Cat. “Ah, that’s a good spot.”

The Cat put down the piano, and started playing a beautiful melody. Very soon, animals started joining in. The birds went chirp chirp, the frogs went ribbit ribbit, and the road runners went meep meep. It was heavenly. Heck, even the sharks swam up the river to listen to this beautiful music. When the song was over, the animals clapped and the Cat took a bow.

“Thank you, thank you,” said the Cat, “I hope my music makes this world a better place.”
“Oh, it sure did,” said the Elephant, “What inspired you to do this?”
“Ah, it was a long story,” answered the Cat, “As you all know, cats have nine lives. After I spent the first several lives playing with balls of yarn and can has cheese burgers, I got really bored and started wondering… can there be more? Can I do more? So, I started making a list of things that I want to do.”
“That helped a lot, huh?” asked the Elephant.
“Oh yeah. Using that list, I sorted out all my priorities and decided to take actions to make this world a better place. I still have that list on my wall. I call it my cat-a-list.”

The Cat went on to explain all those things he had done:

In the next life, he was an organizer. There used to be no system of organizing information. The Cat came up with ways of indexing information and carving it on a log. The system worked so well that people decided to call it a “cat-a-log”.

In the life after that, the Cat made the world a better place by becoming a chef. People used to have no idea what to put on their hot dogs and fries. The Cat saw this and decided to take a bunch of tomatoes and chop them up. And then he added salt and spices to it. The resulted sauce was delicious on hot dogs and fries. People loved it so much that they named it “cat-chop”.

After that, he decided to become a scientist. He made a discovery that’s so important that people named it after him. And that was where the term “cat-ion” came from.

He was still not satisfied, so he went into medical research hoping to help more people. And that was why he invented the “cat scan”.

“However, in this life, I decided that I could help even more people by playing music,” said the Cat.
“But what’s so special about that?” The Fox was skeptical. “I could’ve just listened to a CD or something.”
“Oh, music has the most impact when they are played at the right time in real-life events.” explained the Cat.
“Can you give me an example?’ Damn that Fox, always so skeptical.

The Cat was about to answer but was interrupted when the Hippo started hiccuping. This was very awkward! The animals were all staring at the Hippo, and nobody said a word. Yep, shouldn’t have drunk all that soda pop.

“Watch this,” said the Cat.

He started playing a tune on the piano. It was upbeat and catchy, and everyone started clapping their hands (or feet, or paws, or fins) together. Everyone was having so much fun and the Hippo felt so much more at ease, and guess what, his hiccups stopped.

“Wow, that was amazing,” said the Fox, “but could that have been a fluke?”

Suddenly there was a loud thud. Everyone looked around and realized that it was an owl that fell to the ground. Apparently, he stayed up all night and accidentally fell off the tree because he was too sleepy.

“Aw, it hurts,” cried the Owl.
“No worries,” said the Cat, “I’ll help you out.”

The Cat started playing again. The Owl stretched his wings, and flied back into the tree again. As that was happening, people were cheering.

“Play him off! Play him off!” Everyone happily chanted.

The Fox was now convinced. Who knew that a cat playing a piano could make all the tension, awkwardness, and pain go away just like that? The Cat smiled and bowed. He knew that his music had indeed made a difference, even though this time, nobody could think of a cat-related pun to name something after him.

“I am inspired!” said Violet, “I want to become a musician and help people!”
“But the story is not over yet,” said Jane. “There’s this last part of the story.”

As everyone was happily celebrating the gift of music, a meteor fell from the sky. It hit the piano and made the piano explode. It was so sudden. Nobody could believe their eyes. They just stood there and stared at the piano that was no more.

Not a sound. Not a word. It was silent, and awkward.

Hm.

Too bad there’s no one to play him off now.

“What a stupid ending!” said the King.
“You know what? I agree.” said Jane.

This story was partially based on Michelle‘s suggestions from the last story. Likewise, you can leave random ideas in the comments section of this post and I just might work them into the next story!

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Once upon a time, there was no Facebook. Yep, you heard me right. I was there.

Back then, the only way to connect to each other (as in, having a public page listing all your friends) is to create a Xanga or LiveJournal. Yep, that’s right. People had to create blogs for that. If you wanted to know what the others are doing, you subscribe to their blogs, and you read them.

Everything changed when Friendster came around.

Friendster was amazing. All you had to do was create a profile. You would fill out all these information about yourself. You could add your friends and stay connected wherever you were. And you could post pictures too! Amazing! I signed up for one too.

I no longer use it though, not since Facebook… but today, I got an email saying there was a message for me. I logged in, and holy cow, there were so many messages for me! Man, think about it… all these strangers wanted to be friends with me! I found something bizarre when I looked at the first page though: they all looked the same!

Yep, I got messages from Cecilia, Grace, Shelia, Pansy, and Ofelia. They all looked the same! They had the same face, and they all had the same facial expression and pose when they had their profile pictures taken from the same angle. I did not know quintuplets could be so similar! I read their profiles some more, and apparently they all had the same qualities. All five of them were kind, warm, nonjudgmental, fun, attractive, free spirited woman lol. They all loved to be outdoors, enjoying the sun, listening to the birds and smelling the fresh air. And apparently, all five of them were always open to new experiences and adventure, whether it’s as quiet as a sunset or as wild as I please. Can you believe it?

Oh, and they all wanted me to visit this website. I loved it when people shared interesting links with me.

And then I looked at their pictures. They were all beautiful (but not in their own ways) and they all had huge boobs (so that’s ten boobs, for you mathematically challenged). I thought about it. Yeah, I guess I could handle twins, or triplets, but quintuplets? That’s simply too many! I am going to get so confused and I don’t like confusion!

I hit delete.

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I am going to start posting random stupid stories on this site. Some of you might like it; some of you might not. But I think I am going to keep doing it because I love writing really dumb stories. So here is the first chapter (or whatever you call it). After you read it, feel free to leave me comments and random suggestions, such as “bananas!”, “pirates!”, “I am so sick of this toast and cannot even believe that it’s not butter!” and I just might include them somehow in the next story. Now, the story:

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Bendan, there was a king named King Shagua. King Shagua was married to a Queen but day after day she wanted to talk about philosophy and the meaning of life. The King was very annoyed because he could not keep up with the conversation. One day, he heard the Queen and his Chief of Philosophy discuss global economy and social issues. When he tried to pretend to be interested in the conversation, he said, “Is global economy all about the sale of snow globes?” The Queen and the Chief of Philosophy both bursted out laughing for ten minutes straight. Feeling deeply insulted, the King banished the two upon the eleventh minute. They were still laughing as the Prime Minister escort them out. You see, the Prime Minister was the King’s former bodyguard and still acted as the bouncer for the King’s mighty castle. He was loyal to the King and helped kick out whoever the King did not like.

The King was now lonely at night because he had nobody to talk to. So he asked his Prime Minister to bring him a new girl. Unfortunately, the girl wanted to talk about poetry which the King had no interest, no desire, and no capability of understanding. The King banished her the next morning. The Prime Minister brought another girl the next day, but all she wanted to talk about were the arts, you know, like how the arts was the way people existed through their senses in this world and so on. The King would not hear any of it and banished her as well. Night after night, the girls came in to talk to the King, but unfortunately all the girls talked about intellectual topics that he did not understand. They were all banished. This gave the Prime Minister a prime headache.

The Prime Minister had two daughters, Jane and Violet. Jane was well-read in all kinds of classics and world literature, and knew a wealth of stories. Violet was quite well-read in the literature of the Berenstain Bears, as she was much younger. When Jane heard about her dad’s dilemma, she said, “Send me to the King.” The Prime Minister was like, “What? Are you crazy? You are going to get banished and we’ll have to pay out-of-state tuition. Oh hell no.” But then, Jane insisted. She whined and whined and whined, so the Prime Minister said, “Okay, okay, do what you want.” So she was sent to the King. Before she went, she told her sister, “Make sure that you join me on web cam tonight, and ask me to tell you stories.” Violet agreed and they huggled goodbye.

At night, the King wanted to talk about dinner tables while Jane wanted to talk about the multiplication table and periodic table, because she was intellectual like that. This was when Violet contacted Jane by video conference on the royal laptop. “Hey sis, would you tell me a story?” Jane knew this was her chance to tell stories that the King would like. Of course, she needed to stop herself from telling Shakespearian stories where everyone killed one another at the end because it would easily confuse the King and be too likely for her to slip into a discussion of the meaning of life, literary themes, and all the melancholy of everything. She knew she would have to tell stupid stories.

“But my dear King, I have a request first,” she said.
“What would you like?” asked the King.
“I would like to have a sign that says ‘Story Time with Jane’ and it would be fabulous. I’ll make the sign and we’ll frame it and put it on the wall.”
“But I can’t find a frame that fits it.”
“That’s easy,” she said, “I just need to glue four bamboo skewers to the four sides and put plastic wrap on top instead of using glass.”
“Okay, do it. But what a stupid framing device!” The King laughed.

Jane knew for sure now that the King dug stupid. So she must tell a stupid story or put stupid elements into a regular story. So here it goes.
“My King,” she started, “today’s story is about the _____ and ______.”

Request For Comments:
And this is where I ask for suggestions:
1. What better title can I use in place of the working title “One Thousand and One Nights of Stupid Stories?”
2. What random objects (banana?), characters (pirates?), quotes (“It’s time to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I am all out of gum”?) should appear in the story?
You shout random things out, and I’ll pick some and use them in the next installment.
3. Do you feel insulted by this story because it’s too dumb?

More stories from this series:
Play Him Off
Sledgehammer

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