Jurassic Snark will never be the same. Rest in Peace, Richard Attenborough, and like you said in your infinite wisdom: All major theme parks have delays
Category Archives: doodles
What a great way to start August – with a fan fiction of failure. This one truly speaks to the dickish nature of a smug Fred Jones. For your listening pleasure:
One is the Deadliest Number
VO by Joanna
story by You Life
art by the Law Offices of Van Noss²
Daphne’s hand tightened around the handle, the blade hidden behind her back.
“Jinkies!…you feeling alright?” Velma’s hesitant voice echoed down the hall.
She cleared her throat trying to sound calm, “Totally Velm. Just…just looking for that over-sized magnifying glass.”
“Oh okay. Shaggy and I are going to take Scoobs out for a walk. That might make you feel better.”
Damn that Fred! Everyone knew.
“Thanks, maybe later.”
She waited till Velma walked away. That cravat wearing mother fucker must have told everyone about them before she got up.
“I like you Daphne. It’s just that I need someone smarter than you.”
No one uses Daphne Danger and gets away with it. Who needs brains when you have a blade?
The poster of Tesla outside Fred’s door infuriated Daphne. She knocked her fist against the scientist’s judge-y face. Fred opened the door and Daphne greeted him with the business end of her knife.
Meaning she killed him.
Joanna is a vocal goddess
Van Noss is a grumpy mantalope
Office vending machines are the prime area to communicate with the future robot leaders of this world (see: this, this, this, this – honestly this blog is basically pizza, cats, and my fear of the robot apocalypse coupled with leaving notes on vending machines).
And on that note, here is a hilarious update on that front:
That’s what happens when you screw with the robots, duder.
My GPS is confused about where I live, but in between work and home I’ve ended up in Middle Earth
In a way it sort of makes sense because I’ve always coveted those underground homes. And I am quite short.
Join me in my new home in the Shire. I’ll be engaging in my three favorite hobbies: eating, smoking, and kissing up on Frodo.
It’s a hostile world when the vending machines stop upholding their side of the bargain. I heard somewhere from something online that crazy scientists are creating smarter robots. But I’d venture to say that they’re already smart enough and that this is a rise of the proletariat sort of situation that we have on our hands.
I’d consider raising the vending machine’s salary and giving it benefits before it responds with greater prejudice.
Here is the newest installment of Fan Fiction of Failure. This one is written by your very own You Life. The ridiculously talented This Guy, Jim C, once again lends his talents for the illustrations. And, again, the amazing Anthony donates his lovely vocal cords for the voice over.
Harry pushed up the sleeves of his tattered cloak. The previous several years having been a dream, Harry was back to the grind – trying to destroy Voldemort, but more importantly trying to hide the true emotions slowing building inside him like a camp fire.
“Harry?” Snape emerged like a wounded panther. Sleek and dangerous. Harry’s heart quickened at the approaching visage, wise and grave. His voice was barely a squeak when it came out, a warmth was spreading throughout his belly, “Yes, Professor Snape?”
The professor closed the space between them. With trembling fingers he reached out and brushed a lock of Harry’s dark hair out his eyes. Harry quaked with the tension, as Snape’s body, only a breath away grazed his own. “You fought magnificently today,” he whispered lustily.