Thursday, June 26, 2008


Grant Morrison had a future shock and landed on Puchong planet on a cold dark night where cats roamed the alleyways and wisma ioi was hosting a eat-all-you-can pasta parade. Not necessarily in that order. Mr. Morrison saw the Blob and Lazarus Churchyard faced off, with Blob downing every concotion of pasta put before him, while Lazarus was putting to rot everthing he touch. It was a dead draw until Blob farted and out came all the processed linguine. So the old undead won the prize for a whole year of free eats at all Pastamania. He celebrated by vomiting into the soup of the day. Mr. Morrison taught that was a good idea and had Frank Quitely drew the whole scene. The inks was handled by Geof Darrows but he being Geof Darrows added depth instead and the vomit scene became like Sri Petaling at peak hours. Time was, one can take the lrt and jumped the metro and skipped home. Now, there's no telling what other retelling Mr Morrison is going to come up with on a normal day Puchong scene where 30 minutes brings you home into a 13 part filth of a mini-series where you have to stroke a cat, masturbate and immerse oneself in shadows just to reach home! Mr. Morrison has these things for cat. said it bring out the animal in him.

Cats in Puchong

This armoured feline tore dumb GI Joes apart. Just ask Frank Quitely. He was cornered on cold dark night by Mr. Morrsion while walking through a David Llyod scene with exploding torsos and flying entrails. cats in the blogs? This is far, way far from arkansas. Mr. Morrison said he will revamped Puchong into a 30 parter with tuiton center managers and engineers as bit part characters and several full page splash of exploding theologians and decapitated docotrs. Geof Darrow had been summoned. Some said this is just another version of a bad plate of Chow Kit mi-hun kueh. (Business starts at 12 midnite, go there and tell the fat ass auntie Pltypus sends you. ) Most just agree its a case of the the traffic going to the dogs. Meanwhile down south, manicured playmobiles are driven by engineered doctors on pay-to-drive circuits. And despite all the best of social de-engineering, the traffic still look like Isaiah on a bad hair day. Blame it on the reformed barbers with their "The Dummies Guide to hair cut" or "The Idiots Guide to Sweeney Todd". Mr. Morrison, even he, would be retconned to label hell with the multiverse of expandegesis of neo-transient plasmatic orgiastic bela lugostic mr bombastic low low low bookend la-la-lalistic exepornagraphistic execonstipatic exelunatic exevomistic exefartistic exe-ejaculastic bomb. Mr. Morrison is safe in Scotland and have never molested John Knox. He believe in giving it as it is but not necessarily in straightlinear but you get the point. He has not written any handbook. On a brighter note Mr. Morrison's Mystery Play is now a southern reality show, daily pay-to-view extravaganza. Patience is required as the reverential characters sometimes takes some effort to realized that the have been lied to. Just watch the comments section for snippets of the Mystery Play. Mummy's boy even allowed a cameo, powdered bums and all.

This is how Richard Fell would look if it was written by Mr. Llyod

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