Okay, if people don't stop reporting and suspending me, I might begin to think you all hate me. But I think that's quite clear anyway since you all refuse to comment on my fairy tale blogs so from now on I say screw it. I won't go through the trouble if nobody will even read about Mac and the Green Dork so I'll just go back to my fairy tale-less random blogs and see if they are more popular. Unless three comments are made on this blog and then I'll consider bringing back the fairy tales. I'm getting a sense of deja vu here... Anyway, this blog is dedicated to, er, who hasn't been done yet? Oh, I'll dedicate it to rabbitman, whose obsession with rabbits verges on psychotic. Now, I was walking down the road just the other day and I ran into a hippo. He said he was friends with a chipmunk so I let him speak. Well, technically he doesn't speak but rather grunts. And technically it wasn't a hippo but rather a treadmill. And I basically guessed it was friends with a chipmunk because as everyone knows, woodland creatures are known for keeping fit. Anyway, my point is look both ways before you cross the street. And make sure you're not already on the correct side because if you cross the same street twice, it would be a double cross and gangsters don't like that and will probably make you hurt an innocent pony. Anyway, the treadmill apparently didn't like being trodden on after hours so it started beating me up. So I killed its brother, the weights, by throwing them in the river. Rust in peace. I'm sorry you were brought into this. Anyway, the treadmill was naturally furious and went home to rape a goat. When I got home I immediately rung the ambulance and told them to destroy all evidence of any treadmills. Anyway, so long all you random peoples. And all you non-random peoples, you better watch your backs!

I have to say, I'm offended! Not onecomment for my super long fairy tale! Tsk tsk! I warned everyone it was long but you're all too lazy to read a blog more than one paragraph long. WIth that in mind, this fable parody will be the shortest one yet, except for Humpme Dumpme but ther's not much you can do with a four lined fairy tale. Anyway, this tale is dedicated to MichaelWClark to throw you off my track... I mean, to continue dedications. I think we're all familiar with this one so without further ado, I present to you...

Senile Lady that Swallowed a Fly

There was an old lady who was walking past a mysterious plant. When she looked closer she could see a fly on top that looked oddly delicious. She shrugged and swallowed the fly. But what she forgot was that she was allergic to flies and had to be rushed to the hospital. Her throat was closing up, she was going blind and couldn't hear much at all. But aswell as the stuff she's had since she was sixty, she couldn't feel her body at all.

When she awoke the next morning, the doctor said, 'Okay, now I'm just going to get the fly out but I'll need to cut your stomach open first.'
'What are you talking about?' the old lady said. 'You don't need to cut me open. All I have to do is swallow a frog so it'll eat the fly and my allergy will disappear.'
'It would be easier just to -'
'I don't care! My way is foolproof.'
'Okay, I'll go get a frog,' the doctor said, shaking his head in disbelief.
When he re-entered, he held up a frog and the old lady put it in her mouth and chewed noisily before swallowing.
'Sorry to interrupt your foolproof idea but if the frog's chewed up that means it's dead and how can a dead frog swallow a fly?'
'Good point. Pass me another frog.'
This time the old lady swallowed the frog whole. But what she forgot was that she was allergic to frogs. She croaked.
No, she didn't die. That doesn't happen until later on in the story.
She started acting like a frog, croaking and bouncing around the emergency room.

The next day, when she stopped bouncing around, she realised what she had to do.
'No,' the doctor said. 'I am not shoving a poisonous taipan down your throat!'
'But it'll kill the frog who has probably already killed the fly and then there'll be nothing left inside me that can hurt me.'
'Good point. Alright, I'll do it.' The doctor left yelling, 'I need a poisonous snake and lubricant stat!'

The operation was not successful. Instead of swallowing the frog, the snake swallowed the old lady's lungs and poisoned her heart.
And then she died.

You guessed it! I was suspended again, probably by Perry again, but for posts like "im bak babie", a clear satire of dean's poor spelling but also announcing, in an offtopic thread I might add, that I was back with my crazy blogs. Now, as promised, even if I'm a little late, my latest fairy tale will be in this thread. And if you want to read another of my random fairy tale go nowhere stories, just pick from the ones I listed two blogs down. Since only one person voted for a fairy tale last time, here is Mac and the Green Dork. Oh, and this blog is dedicated to, um, I'm trying to think of a Scrubs user off the top of my head that I haven't used yet... Okay, how about, this blog is dedicated to alex6992. Oh, and I did warn Macgyver46 and the rest of you that this was a long story but 100% of you wanted it so here it is, in all it's glory, or is that shame?...

Mac and the Green Dork

One day a twelve year old boy named Mac was working at his mother's farm. He was exhausted from running errands all day so you can imagine how happy he was when he learned his next task was to walk the heaviest cow they owned to the city ten kilometres away.
'Why?' he asked.
'Because we're broke. We don't have a stereo, we don't have any food except eggs which we have to sell anyway. Plus our chicken only lays normal eggs.'
'Yeah, I guess. So what do I do?'
'Go to the city and sell the cow. Make sure you don't go under the minimum cost.'
'What's that?'
'Fourteen dollars and thirty cents.'
'Right.' Mac went to the cow pen which only had two cows left since they kept selling them.
He grabbed Bobby and led her out of the farm. Halfway to the city, Mac came across what looked like a hobo.
'Helloooo son,' the guy said. Okay, a drunken hobo. 'That's a fine croc you've got there. I once had an alligator for a pet but it was accidentally flushed down the toilet. This croc looks much better.'
'Maybe that's because it's a cow,' Mac pointed out.
'Nah, that's not it.' The hobo stared at cow for a while and said, 'You wanna sell me that croc you got there?'
'Sure. Saves half a trip. That'll be fourteen dollars and twenty-nine cents.'
'I don't have any money,' the hobo sighed. 'But I'll give you these.' He showed Mac four jelly beans.'
'Jelly beans?' Mac said. 'I don't think so.'
'They're not just jelly beans. They're magic.'
'Sure they are,' Mac said sarcastically. 'How stupid do you think I am? There's no way I'm giving you my cow for four jelly beans.'
'What about five?'
'Deal.'

When Mac got home with the beans, he went straight over to his mum with the great deal he'd made.
'You what?'
'Gave our cow to a drunken hobo for five jelly beans.'
'Why?'
'I was hungry.'
'Have you eaten them yet?'
'No.'
'Go back and exchange them and get our cow back!' Mac's mum ordered.
'I can't. He made me sign a contract saying that I can't get the cow back. Oh, and any future cows we want to sell has to go to him.'
'That's it!' Mac's mum was outraged. She snatched the jelly beans out of Mac's hands and chucked them out of the window.

Because they were magic beans, the plant grew after one night. When Mac woke up and looked outside his window, he gasped.
He snuck out and tried to see how big it was. The stalk that had come out of the beans was thick and had branches every few inches which made climbing easy. It was so big, it went through the clouds.
Mac shrugged and started climbing. Halfway up, he noticed the food growing on the plant was plates of jelly of all flavours. He stopped for a snack. He was very exhausted. And that's when he noticed the elevator to the side of the stalk.
He got in. The only options were bottom floor and Damn that's high. He clicked the second one and he felt a jolt and the lift started moving up. When it stopped and opened, Mac saw what was really on top of clouds. A giant castle stood a hundred metres in front of him. He was surprised it didn't fall through the clouds but shrugged. Nothing else so far made sense.
He opened the door then heard a thunderous voice. 'I don't care if it's too much work. I want you to invent a chicken that lays gold by this afternoon!' The huge green giant that stood before Mac hung up the giant phone. From the outside, the castle looked like it was five storeys but it was actually only one.
Suddenly the giant sniffed. The force of his sniff almost lifted Mac off the ground in to his nostrils.
'Fe Fi Fo Fum! I smell some person's stinky bum!'
It wasn't Mac's fault. He only had one pair of clothes and no washing machine or toilet paper.
'Do you need your nappy changed?' one of the giant's servants asked.
'No. Not me. An Englishman.'
'You're English.'
'I'm half Scottish.'
'Okay.'
'Someone else is in here,' the giant accused.
'I'll look around,' the servant left the room.
'When you come back, can you play some of your music for me?' the giant asked.
'Okay,' the servant called. 'And thanks for ordering an instrument my size this time. It was really hard to play that giant one of yours.'
'Hey, that's the kind of giant I am. I'm always kind and do things people want me to do for them. If you find that person, cook him hardboiled, okay?'
'Yep.'
Mac didn't like what he was hearing so he decided to get out as soon as possible. Then he spotted the instrument the giant and servant were talking about. The golden electric guitar was up against one of the walls. Mac snuck over, grabbed it and ran out quickly.
He took the lift and went back down to the farm.
'Hey mum. Guess what? I've got an electric guitar. Now we can play and listen to music like we've always wanted to.
'Okay Mac. But I'm sure tomorrow you'll trade it for a packet of Skittles or a Malteser.'
But the music cheered them both up, except Mac's mum.
'Couldn't you have stolen a harp or something? I hate rock.'
'Yeah right. Like a giant would like clasical music. That's a laugh!'
'Go back tomorrow and get something worthwhile.'
'Okay,' Mac sighed.
At least they had dinner that night. The jelly from the plant was quite tasty except it had bits of leaves in there.

The next morning, Mac came up with a plan and went to the chicken pen and picked one of them up and took her in the lift with him and up to the castle.
He could hear the giant grumbling again. 'Fe Fi Fo Fum! God dammit: I just cut my thumb!'
'Sir, can you please stop saying those made up words,' Mac heard the servant say. They make no sense and you say them every time you talk.
'Fe Fi Fo Fum! I do not!'
Mac knocked on the door. The servant answered. 'Can I help you?'
'Yes Mr...' Mac didn't know his name. '... Giant ordered a chicken that lays golden eggs.'
'Yes, we got that yesterday.' He began to shut the door.
'You see, there was a malfunction in that chicken. It also lays silver eggs.'
'But Mr Giant only likes golden things.'
'I know. So here's a non-malfunctioning chicken and I'll take the other one back. No extra cost.'
'Alright. Just a sec.' The servant returned a minute later and handed over the magic chicken.
'Fe Fi Fo Fum! Ask if he's seen the guitar!' came the giant's voice.
'An electric guitar went missing yesterday. Have you seen it?'
'No,' Mac said. 'It's certainly not in the lounge room of my farmhouse.'
'Oh good.' The servant shut the door and Mac ran to the beanstalk. He got to the lift just as the giant shouted, 'This is just a regular chicken!'
Mac heard the rumbling as the giant ran towards the beanstalk. The lift opened at the ground floor and Mac sprinted in to the house, dropped off the chicken, grabbed a chainsaw and revved it up before slicing the plant at the bottom.
The plant fell down, the giant at the top. It crashed to the ground and the giant was knocked unconscious.
But seconds later, the giant got up. 'Fe Fi Fo Fum! To eat this kid, I'll need some rum!'
'No, don't eat me,' Mac pleaded.
'Then give my stuff back!'
'Why?' Mac realised why, so continued. 'How about I give you our last cow, Buttercup.'
'What's a cow?'
Mac grinned. 'It's a magic creature that gives out drinks.'
'Really?'
'Yeah, it'll be a really good deal. I'll throw in a jelly bean aswell.' Mac pulled out another magic bean he had swiped from the hobo.'
'Deal,' the giant said and grabbed the cow. He examined it, shrugged and flew back to his castle.
'Wow. He could fly?' Mac's mum came out.
'I guess so,' Mac said. 'And I got a magic chicken. We're going to be rich!'
'I can't wait to tell your father.'
'But dad's dead.'
'Actually, the truth is, when you were little, your father refused to make a deal with a mysterious hobo and got turned into a cow. He's actually Buttercups. That's why I've never sold him.'
'Oops,' Mac said.

Well, there's a lot of things to go through today. First of all, after being suspended at the hands of our old pal Perry for over a month, I have returned and will be going back to my daily dosage of random chipmunk blogs. For all of the people who are new to my blogs, I urge you to read them as they are quite interesting. In this month, Dean_1993 has not turned up at the Scrubs board so I think we at least got rid of him, but when one troll is removed, two more take his place. Anyway, I'd like to thank the Mods for finally freeing me, and while I'm disappointed that my parodical review was deleted (with 3 users agreeing), I'm glad to be back. Now, I'd like to set one thing straight once and for all. A Perry parody was made (Perry_411) continuously talking about the Janitor. Shortly after a Perean19411 was also made. Neither of these users are me, because I don't have enough time to be three false users and my regular self. Now, I must say that I am very hurt. I haven't been here in over a month and only one person replied to my last blog. But since 100% of those people went for Mac and the Green Dork, tomorrow, I will set up that fairy tale that will knock your socks off. If you have good aim, your socks may land in the washing machine For those of you that don't know me, and I assume your Scrubs fans, I started off as merely being a parody of a very stupid user who couldn't spell and came up with random excuses and said he doesn't like Scrubs because it's stupid. None of his posts were more than a sentence long and so I figured it would be funny to exaggerate him and come up with an identical username without the _. I mayd teh spilig reely aporling and people found it funny. When people got bored of it, I started making actual blogs with proper spelling but made them very random and very chipmunky. Eventually people started trying to guess which user I was and while it took them a while, at least half of the regular Scrubs posters know who I am. Now that everyone's caught up, I promise the rest of my blogs will go back to being random rather than well structured and sensible like this one is. As usual, I'm going back to dedicating blogs to certain users and this one is dedicated to yuumm_monkeys. Welcome back me!

This blog is dedicated to -TheDeadMan- and unfortunately that isn't Perry. First on the agenda, not one person PMed me so either nobody could be bothered or you're all morons. Second, since there were three comments on my blog, whether it was because you wanted another Fairy Tale or not, as promised I will show my version of Jack and Jill. A vote on the next fairy tale if you want to choose from is between FoldMeSocks and The Three Hares, The Three Little Pigs or Stinkerella. Choose carefully. On the other hand, if you want to read Mac and the Green Dork, Ter Mite and the Seven and a Half Dwarves or Senile Lady that Swallowed a Fly, feel free to request them aswell. I'll probably go through them all eventually anyway. But I must warn you that only FoldMeSocks and Senile Lady are as short as the ones I've done so far and the others are four pages long and will probably only be read by people with too much time on their hands (hell, they were certainly written by someone like that). If you want a highly inappropriate story I suggest FoldMeSocks. But without much further ado, I present:

Zack and Gil

There were once two teens who worked on a farm.  Their names were Zack and Gil.  Gil didn't like their boss, the farmer, because he never remembered Gil's name.

One day, the farmer shouted, 'Zack!  Bill!  I need you to run an errand.'

They went over.  'Okay,' the farmer said.  'Will, can you get me that water on the table on the way in.'

'My name is Gil,' Gil said in gritted teeth.

'Sure, whatever Phil,' the farmer waved his hands.  'Now, I need you guys to go up the hill over -,'

'That's it!  My name is Gil.'

'I said hill.  You know the thing you walk up.  Geez, relax Pill.'

'Pill?  That's not even a name.'

'Well you thought Hill was.  Look, I didn't bring you here to argue about Till's name.  There's a bucket that you need to fill -'

'You already called me Phil today.'

'Oh, forget it.  Take this bucket, dunk it in the well that's on top of that... steep grassy bump and bring it back down.'

'So now you're calling Zack Back, huh?' Gil said.

'Um Zack, I know this guy's your friend but he's a bit mental so I'm gonna fire him next week, okay?' the farmer said.

'Whatever,' Zack said.  'Come on Gil.'

'Make sure you invite me to your barbeque then,' the farmer called as they left.  'Sorry, I overheard you talking about a grill.'

As Zack and Gil climbed up the hill, Gil said, 'Hey, you left the bucket outside the farm!'

'I know,' Zack said.  I'm not carrying a heavy bucket all the way down a hill.  We're just gonna muck around here then fill up the bucket with tap water when we get back.'

'Ah, sneaky,' Gil complimented.

'It's the American way.'

'But we live in Asia.'

'Same diff.  They both start and end in a.'

'Well so does Alaska, Africa, Antarctica, Australia...' Gil rattled off countries and continents.

'I don't care.  Wanna graffiti the well?'

'Yeah!' Gil agreed. 'Oh, but I left the spray paint back at the farm.'

'Dammit!' Zack said.  'Oh well, I'll go get it.  He started going back down the hill but he tripped over a stone and cracked his skull on a jagged rock, instantly dying.

'Hey that looks like fun,' Gil said and ran down, tripping over the same stone and landing on another rock.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, the farmer started doing an evil laugh. 'Mwahahahahahaha!' he shouted.  Huh, I wonder what that was for.  Eh, it's probably not important.

Meanwhile, back at the hill, Gil was almost dead but wanted to die where he wanted to be buried... the graveyard on the other side of the hill.  Gil grabbed Zack's lifeless body and pulled him along as he slid towards the graveyard.  But he only made it to the well where he collapsed.

The next week, King Jack and Queen Jill walked up the hill on an inspection of the farm.  King Jack got up first and saw Zack and Gil's corpses.  He stumbled backwards, falling down the hill.  He knocked in to Queen Jill who fell down aswell.  Neither of them got badly hurt but King Jack broke his crown.  In this country, if the King breaks his crown, he loses the title of royalty and the owner of the place they are at that time becomes King.

The farmer became King, as was his plan all along.  I guess that's why he did that maniacal laugh before.  Or maybe not.  I guess we'll never know.

You know, while I know these blogs are a waste of time, I'd appreciate it if at least one comment was left so I know all my creative thinking about random crap that nobody cares about was being read, either by people that care or chipmunks that don't. Nobody even bothered to ask a question about the North Pole and to think I'd already figured out three possible answers (yes, snow and crocodiles) and now you'll never know what questions they refer to. Anyway, blah blah dedicated blah to Lion4Life (by the way I'm sick of searching through the forum to pick out a random name so if nobody comments on this, I'll just start dedicating it to random famous and infamous people in this solar system and they'll be about as funny as the rest of my comments (is threatening you working?) Alright, it seems like my mission is complete at the moment because the real Dean hasn't shown up on the Scrubs board in two days so he must be humiliated by realising just how random and stupidhis comments are, aswell as his abysmal spelling. I find it interesting in that [ahem]dean's [ahem] thread about humpty dumpty, only about two people actually read the story. I do have more fairy tales if you want my next blog to be one but I'm going to need three comments on this one for that to happen (is bribing working?). Well, that's it for me today (or is it night where I am? The mystery lives on). Everyone who reads this blog, send a PM to who you think is the real me and I'll give the tallied votes in tomorrow's blog without telling who's right and I may mix it up a little by denying it's me in a message back. And please put a Do Not Reply message when you send it, even though I know you won't, so that you don't eliminate any Scrubs users. But I'm guessing by now, three quarters of you have figured out who I am, I've dropped enough hints (by the way, the four that know who I am don't count towards the final tally). So long to the few people that are actually reading this. If you're lucky, you may even drop off the face of the Earth to be devoured by communists and Paris Hilton.

This blog is dedicated to the love of my life, Perry411. And just for you, as promised, I came up with a little fairy tale I think we've all appreciated growing up:

Humpme Dumpme

One day, an egg that for some reason had arms, legs and was alive was enjoying his daily walk on top of the Great Wall of China.  He was very depressed that day because he'd seen his cousin sunny side up just three days after his father was scrambled.  His mother had died shortly after he was born because, in the recovery room, the doctor had missed lunch and couldn't resist eating a patient.

Anyway, Humpme Dumpme, as he had been known by female eggs all over Asia (that and it was his name at birth), was no longer enjoying his walk across the Great Wall, as the memories were flooding back.

As he passed a cyclist, who had been riding on the Wall for years (he had no idea how to get down), Humpme lost his balance and had a Great Fall down the Great Wall (that was the headline in the papers the next day).

'Aaaaaagh!' he screamed as he fell for several minutes before crashing to the ground, cracking (literally) his skull!

Fortunately the King and his servants were passing by in a carriage.

'Your Majesty, there seems to be an injured egg in the road.  Should we help it?'

'But I'm hungry!' the King complained.  'Oh, alright, as long as it's quick.'

So the King's men found the emergency bandages in the carriage and walked over to heal Humpme while the King's horses got up (no-one knows how) and performed CPR.  But it was too late.  Yolk was spilled all over the place and not even the horrendous horse's breath couldn't revive him.

'I'll ring the graveyard,' one of the men said.

'Are you done yet?' the King said impatiently.  'I wanna get to McDonalds!'

'Oh no! The breakfast hours are over!' one of the men said.

'Well what are we gonna do now?'

The men and horses looked down at Humpme Dumpme and grinned evilly.

'Here you go sir,' said one of the men after they'd cleaned up the massacre and handed the plate of egg to their royal leader.  'White egg, no yolk, just the way you like it.'

'That's not the way I like it,' the King said suspiciously but shrugged and ate Humpme.  It was the best meal he'd ever had and was full by the time he finished.

Truly, Humpme Dumpme was a meal fit for a King!

This blog is dedicaed to all the kids that ever got picked last in gym class. This is for you! To all the kids who've ever been called a freak!... Wait a minute, that's the song Little Things by Good Charlotte. Speaking of little things, my blog is actually dedicated to jd_newbie! Anyway, I have a special treat for you guys today. I am going to reveal who I am. Sometime in this blog I will mention that I am actually Santa Claus. Oh, I just did. That was easy. And yes, I know it's shocking that a retarded thirteen year old is actually a tall, heavy, old dude with a beard that spies on kids when they're sleeping, but hey, it can't be too surprising, this is the internet after all. Any North Polian question you want to know, feel free to ask. I'm not saying I'll bother to answer you but you can ask whenever you want. Tomorrow, I'll be revealing one of my biggest clues so far in the form of a fairy tale. And no, I don't mean a tale about homosexuals, or a tale about little tinkerbells. I mean a story about an egg sitting on top of a wall. Until next time, Ho ho ho (and please don't sue me for calling you a ho). Ho ho holy crap! Some dude in a rabbit costume stole my chocolate! Fee fi fo fum! I'll kick his ass then drink some rum. Huh? Oh right, fairy tales are tomorrow's item.

This blog has a dedication to the one person that made all of this possible... Buddha. As far as Scrubs fans go, I may aswell go with, hmm, jimbo_001, meaning 3 down, about a hundred to go, and since I'll probably get bored of false blogging eventually, don't get mad if you're not mentioned, it just means you aren't important.

Today's lecture will contain the following words: salmon, chips, Einstein, cricket, monks, apostrophe, charts, hell, pencil, boulder. That concludes today's lecture, I hope you all learned how important sex is for the soul. That's what I got out of those words anyway. In conclusion, I'm a chunky monkey from funky town.

This blog is dedicated to MacGyver46 for no reason in particular but lets get back to the random yammerings that I am known for in these pointless and go nowhere blogs by the four people that read them. Now today I'll be discussing the age old question, what came first the Chipmunk or the Egg? And yes, I am aware that chipmunks do not infact lay eggs but instead push out a cube which when thrown against a glass wall, shatters and a catterpillar sized giraffe emerges before burying a hole and lying in it for 2-3 hours and flying out as a chipmunk, but I am instead referring to what arrived at the finish line in the race against cancer first, the chipmunk or the egg with leggs. But that's neither here nor there. The important moral of this story is don't waste time reading this message because it indeed changes topic constantly and never really addresses anything unless they're related to random chipmunks. Anyway, all this talk about chipmunks and eggs is making me hungry. I'm going to get my cholestrol on!