Archive for the ‘Ken Brady’ Category
Boost!
Monday, June 1st, 2009
Thank you for purchasing Boost! With over twenty years on the market, we’re confident that we know you and your body, inside and out. Boost! is the professional choice to keep you going when nothing else will. Used as directed, you’ll be glad you were prepared.
Boost!: Because You’re Not Done Yet!
Warning
This product may contain one or more of the following nanite constructs: subdermal wound sealants, isometric muscle enhancers, optic augmentation bots, skeletal substrate constructors (including endosteum metallizers), arch support reactive compression mechanisms, CarboTube(TM) pulmonary baffles, cochlear funneling webs, aortic bryton cyclers, pituitary magnifiers, other natural and nature-identical constructs.
Possible side-effects include: temporary blindness, intense muscle pain and joint stiffness due to accelerated growth, sensory irritation, feelings of disorientation, moments of extreme rage, prolonged elevated fever, fatigue, loss of memory, slurred speech, random outbursts, death.
Do not administer to children under six (6) or elderly over one hundred forty (140).
Instructions
Remove child-proof cap. Place patented Boost! applicator against neck as shown on applicator package. Squeeze applicator until empty. Nanites will begin rebuilding tissues and augmenting functionality immediately.
It will take approximately 1 minute, 45 seconds (1:45) from the time nanites begin rebuilding user’s tissue to full internal augmentation. We highly suggest user finds a suitable hiding place while the process completes.
When full augmentation is reached, user will have 15 minutes of enhanced functionality. The glucose pack included with the Boost! applicator will provide up to two (2) additional minutes of enhancement. Functionality beyond that time, augmented or otherwise, is neither guaranteed nor implied.
Should Boost! not perform as described and user survives partial augmentation, return applicator and packaging, along with blood and DNA samples for a refund assessment.
Use as directed. For terrestrial military use only.
Pursedog
Monday, May 4th, 2009
Pursedog doesn’t like you. Forget that he belongs to Kitty, your semi-long-term girlfriend, or that you’ve run into her apartment to retrieve the little yapping piece of accoutrement because she asked you to.
Forget that you paid for the diminutive bag of fur. He hates you and there’s nothing you can do to change it.
Pursedog knows your innermost secrets. Somehow the little fucker always walks in at the worst times like:
– Using Kitty’s toothbrush to clean the toilet bowl
– Practicing solo forms of tantric yoga you found online
– Whacking to pics of Martha Stewart and/or George Wendt
He knows more about Kitty than you do. There are things a girl just won’t tell her somewhat significant other, but she’ll damn well tell her dog. Especially Pursedog. You know why? Because he listens.
Pursedog was grown to be a woman’s best friend, zipper running tail to ears, insides warm, cushioned, welcoming. He holds mobile phones, apartment keys, identification, emergency makeup. Maybe an extra tin of mints or deodorant. Occasionally, you suspect, a dildo. You’ve seen him vibrating on his back on a restaurant floor in obvious elation, and you’re pretty sure why.
Pursedog is smarter than you. And he knows it.
He sends snaps to Kitty’s phone if he catches you not washing your hands when you leave the bathroom. He posts videos of you masturbating to a popular web forum. You’re reasonably famous there.
Under Kitty’s bed, there’s Pursedog, growling an ominous warning. He backs up and his eyes glow red to augment his pervert alarm. You always set off his defenses, raise his hackles. His zipper clasps tight, double-locks. You reach in and snag Pursedog by the scruff of the neck, avoiding his snapping jaws. It’s unclear why Kitty wants protection from perverts when she’s dating one.
He’s freewheeling in the air, trying to bite your hand when it hits you. You’re being replaced. Kitty’s too chickenshit to tell you. Instead, she’s taken up with a modded pooch, locked her important things away from you.
You’ve already been replaced. And you paid for your own replacement.
Pursedog thinks you’re a dumbass, and he’s right.
“Look,” you say. “At least tell me what I did wrong?”
Pursedog stops struggling, like he’s contemplating your question. Like he cares. You consider setting the four-legged hellbeast down, forgiving him for taking your place. You could walk away without a parting shot at Kitty and never even look back. Bow out gracefully. You loosen your grip, and like a coiled spring the little rat spins around and clamps his teeth into your hand.
You drop-kick the little bastard out the window.