Links are in BLUE
Knowing now that you...uh, know that I have a dancing disability known as Danceritis prosthetica, you should get to know even MORE about me, muhaha. Ever since I was a little bugger growing up in the darkest alleys of Antarctica, I have learned to 'fend for myself. Sheesh-komaskie, my father, was a 7 foot tall ess-kee-moe with a size 12 waist, and my mother was a 3'5" Japanise woman with 3 eyes named Patricia. How was I plagued with Danceritis prosthetica, we shall never know...until I tell you.
One day while learning how to ice fish [ you know, fish for ice in a little scrap of cardboard ] I was unexpectidly pulled off of the cardboard by Moby-Dick. He single-flipperd-ly gnawed off my right leg while my ess-kee-moe father Sheesh-komaskie just sat there on the cardboard, and tittering endlessly at the attack. I never saw him again. Well, after that, I passed out from the small amount of blood that was leaking out of my now severed leg, and floated away. When I awoke, I found myself in a hospital bed outside of Racine, Wisconsin.
After 1 week of hard work, and tireless recovery, I "rolled" myself out of the hospital in a wheelchair, with a Prosthetic leg. Back in 1999, nobody knew what a prosthetic leg was, so they immediatly called it a disease, and put me in jail, claiming that I was practicing "witchcraft", and said they saw me with a chainsaw cutting down a tree down by the pond. Well, how could I do that when I CAN'T WALK!?! Do I LOOK LIKE A BEAVER TO YOU??! NO! I don't have large buck teeth,. an...okay, anyways, after I was let out of jail when some unknown person payed my $2 bail, I rolled down the street in my wheelchair. I went to go see a doctor about these big hunk of willow tree trunk stuck in my leg. He immedatly called it a disease, and therefore named it Danceritis prosthetica. He gave me a prescription of Penicillin and told me to take it until the bottle was empty.
"What a crackhead", I thought. Was I the ONLY one thinking straight?! This wasn't a disease, this was a frickin prosthetic leg for Jebus sake! Anyway, I lived with it until May of 2002 when the movie Spider-Man came out. I wanted to see the movie since Spider-Man has been my idol since I was the darkest child growing up in the dark alleys of Antarctica.[ I'm white, I just had a dark tan...yeah ] So when the movie came out, I rolled my Prosthetic legged bum into that theater, and parked it right in the middle of the aisle so nobody could get past me when they had to get up and go take a tinkle! HAHA! That ought to teach them to make fun my dancing disability!...Anyways, I saw the movie about 20 times after that, and I loved it. All my other friends down at the clinic and the old folks home, [ those with glass eyes, bladder problems, big heads, and prosthetic arms ]started calling me "Spider-Man from Iran with a tin can with the disease Danceritis prosthetica..man" But then most of them started to lose their hearing, and started to have mind-loss [which most started to believe that it was the aliens that stole their memory..], so they just shortened it to Prosthetic Leg Spider-Man. That was easier for them.
So, here I am today, in 2002 almost 2003, with my Danceritis prosthetica, while sitting in my wheel chair, typing out this story...oh yeah, there was a Big Mac involved in this story too, wasn't there. Well, here's the story about the Big Mac.
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Last weekend, I rolled over to "Heartattack on a seasme seed bun"...MICKEY D'S! When I got to the counter, it was hard for me to get the cashier's attention, so I unscrewed my prosthetic leg, and threw it at him. It hit him in the bum, & bounced off, while smacking the cash register. "Sorry," I said, with a smile "my leg flew off, could you please give it back to me?" He looked at me with an evil gleam in his eye...like he was going to start a riot and shove some buns in my face...but he only turned around and proceeded to pick up my prosthetic leg. And when he bent over to pick up my leg..seriously, this man had more crack than Harlem. I giggled, but then he handed back my leg, and I just sat there tittering. So I ordered my Big Mac, ate it and then went home, tittering some more.
Ever since then, I have never ate at Mickey D's...execpt for the past week when I had to go to meetings all day, so I had to eat something. Well, after those business meetings, [ I work for Tobey Maguire as his costume designer for his prosthetic leg for the new Spider-Man movie ], I decided to go down to a local Bar and Dance Club called "Art of the Fake Leg"..it's quite astonishing if you think about it. Anyway, by this time, I have found out a way to walk, so I don't have to use my wheelchair anymore. Ah ha. When I got to the bar, I walked in, and saw all people like me gathering and having a load of fun. I thought nothing of the argument going on next to me, so I sat down and ordered a drink. 5 minutes later, I looked around, and saw 2 men yelling. I got up on my leg and walked over to see what was going on. When I finally got there, I overheard the conversation: "So you think your so tough, you crazy one legged freak?" said one man. "Yes, I do, and ALL of us in this room have only 1 real leg, so don't even call me a freak, because you're the only one that has 2 fake legs!" *gasp*...So that went on for a while, so then they started arguing about who could dance better. And well ALL know that people with prosthetic legs can't dance, because we have a dancing disability called Danceritis prosthetica..like you already didn't know. WELL, these 2 men started arguing about who could break dance better, so one of them; who I learned later was named Aqueel (really spelt Akil), started to break dance first. He was an Arab owner of a prosthetic leg, and he owned a Kwiki Mart down the street that only sold Squishies during the summer months, right now during December, they are out of season. Anyway, so Aqueel hit the dance floor, wearing his Bufu gear, turban to the left, shouting, "MIDDLE EAST, YO!" as he broke-dance on the floor. But the cheering only went on for so long, because before Aqueel knew it, Aqueel's prosthetic leg flew off of him, and hit someone in the face. After that, it turned into a whole "Prosthetic Leg Hoo-haa" if you want to call it that. There were fake legs being thrown all over the place. People were beating eachother over the HEAD with their fake legs, causing major brain damage, and caused them to forget how to tie their right shoe, and brush their teeth. Just as the "Prosthetic Leg Hoedown" was getting out of hand, the REAL Spider-Man, along with his super friends, Batman, Birdman, Superman and George W. Bush, started to raid the party. They broke everything up. Batman & Robin took care of one group, Birdman & Superman took care of another, while George W. Bush took out his ulitmate crime fighting weapon, Dick Cheney...but his heart decided to fail for the 30th time, so he had to leave and be taken to the hospital. So Bush used his Republican ways, a pair of sunglasses, a pink tutu, and a bag of pixie dust to take care of Aqueel and his Arab Squishie Gang with the Bufu, left-turned turbans, and the icky sunglasses.
AND THE DAY WAS SAVED! TRUTH, JUSTICE, AND THE AMERICAN WAY BY GE0RGE W. BUSH!
Well anyways, that is the story about Lika Malia and what happens when you drink 2 cans of Mtn Dew in 3 minutes.
This story is dedicated to Tobey Maguire, the National Prosthetic Leg Company, Christopher Lowell, Maddie, Iekika Pala, & Anaki Malia [luvya!!]
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[p.s. If you decide to believe this story, I think you should check yourself into the padded place, and get ourself your own prosthetic wooden leg to gnaw on. I mean, cmon..Bush doesn't have time to dance around in a pink tutu....or does he?]
for Spider-Man picture
Basically, I wrote this story for all the little children in Ireland and in Russia....*blank stare* Not really. I mainly wrote it to "edumacate" everybody about the passionate love for prosthetic legs have, and what great pets they make for those in need......
AND IF YOU ACT NOW, WE'LL SEND YOU ANOTHER PROSTHETIC LEG, FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!! THAT'S RIGHT PEOPLE! DOUBLE THE COMPANY, AND DOUBLE THE COMPANIONSHIP! Isn't that what we all need in our lives? A companion? Look past the petty differences of a glass eye or an eyepatch, and think about how the person is beautiful on the inside.
"Oh you are special, you are my friend..you're special to me..."
*shakes head*
Whoa...how did Mr. Roger's get into this? Man, canya just imagine Mr. Roger's with like a bazooka in his hands?...I'd laugh if he blew King Friday to bits, muhahahaha! *coughs*
And that was the end...of the th..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Lika Malia