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Update #9: Hooray for bags

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Option B won last week

Right now I am updating this journal through a series of over 500 SMS messages sent to my journal in order to update it from the dumpster I am currently hiding in. And when I say dumpster, I mean a sad old hobo who's skin I am living in which was the only way I could escape. I should probably explain what has happened leading up to this update.

After I created 'Noodle Energy' I knew I had to get to the city as fast as possible to become a millionaire. This was not the first time I had been on the verge of being a millionaire and missing out. It's a harrowing story that I rarely bring up. When I was younger, and old man called Ben came to see me, telling me my father had been murdered by dark jedi called Darth Vader. He taught me the ways of the force, which I instantly used to rig as many roulette games as I could, having limitless sex with myself and others. After killing Ben and enslaving the universe, I was tricked by the nefarious rebels into not getting my dark jedi application form filled in on time (apparently they took the stamp of the letter I sent the department of jedi powers). My money ran out, and I've never spoken of it again.

But now was my second chance! I knew my drink would succeed, and I just had to get people to recognize it somehow. As the taxi arrived, I waved goodbye to Clancy, who was too distracted with waving goodbye to me to notice. I hopped into the taxi with a full suitcase of my drink with me and we drove off. Trees zipped past as they normally do, being the fast moving plants they are, and I began to doze off. Into sleep.

I awoke to an odd noise. The noise of someone kicking me in the eyes. We were in the city all right, but for some reason the taxi driver was in the process of beating the crap out of me. I asked him what he was doing, to which he told me this was always how his father always woke him up. As he started to take off his belt, I asked him if he wanted to be paid for the taxi ride. I looked in my wallet, and it occurred to me that I had never actually taken any money with me. I asked the taxi driver if he would take something of equal value, and handed him one of the drinks from my suitcase. At first he was against the idea, but I insisted he give it a try. Reluctantly, he took a sip. His eyes lit up, and he screamed it was the best drink he had ever tasted. He must have tasted the burning sensation that rips through your tong. He immediately tore the door of its hinges and told me the ride was all paid for.

As I stood on the sidewalk, I looked around the city like a druid on a cow farm. I have no idea what the means, but if ever that metaphor becomes popular, I'm copywriting it and suing every one of you who dares use it. I looked at the various buildings around the city, picking the target of my new million dollar drink. My mind whirled and twirled as I weighed up my possibilities, when a lovely man in a suit made of expensive plastic bags tugged on my arm.

"Hey man, you looking for to make it big in this city?"

What are the chances? Of course I was! I felt like Neil Armstrong when he stood on the moon, just without the moon or any of his accomplishments. I explained to him that I was trying to sell my new wonder drink, and that I needed to speak to someone who could buy it. He looked at me and said he knew what I needed.

A zebra.


I think...

He instantly pulled out a giant inflatable zebra from behind him, and started screaming at me to worship the zebra. Now, many of you have probably thought I have lost my mind by this point, but I can assure you this really did happen. I dropped to the ground and worshiped this great inflatable zebra deity, hoping he could show me the way to success, or at least lose my virginity. As I looked up at his stripy face, it spoke to me:

"UH OH! You've just been pranked on 1.1FM!! WAAAAA HEY!!!"

Well that didn't sound right. I know many zebras, and none of them own their own radio station. The man in the expensive plastic bags started pointing at something, maybe more possessed zebras. I wasn't sure.

"Yeah! WOO! You've just been PRANKED on 1.1FM! How do you feel?"

All I could do was panic. Here was this zebra that was going to tell me the way to my million dollar fortune, and this jackass goes and ruins it. But I had an idea:

Radio stations have broadcasts that appeal to multiple people...

I needed to appeal to multiple people...

I was talking to someone from a radio...












I could get this radio station to promote my drink! I turned to the man in the bags and told him that I was in the city to promote my new drink. He seemed quite keen by telling me to shut up that he wanted to know more. I explained to him that I needed to promote this drink any way possible, and that I would do anything to get on their show. Man-Bags pondered the proposal, and asked if I completed one of their dares he would mention my drink for a fraction of a second when he does his next crazy pranks. This was exactly what I needed. Man Bags put his arm around me like so many drunk uncles do, and proposed a series of dares.

A) Jump of the statue of liberty
B) Kill 50 cows in 10 minutes
C) Sky dive without a parachute into a wading pool of water.

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And why does boolean get a kitten for every journal entry? Just something I've noticed.

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