Tuesday, 4 November 2014
In a move to operate a high-end escort service, Kelcee opened up a "Pornography Academy". When patrons arrived to meet her or one of her girls, they would also be given a disposable camera, and could then document, should they want, their "pornographic coaching session". The matter is now before the courts. During the trial, Kelcee married the senior partner at her defending law firm. She doesn't like him much, but he is extravegantly wealthy. She figures retail-level sex for money may be against the law, but sole-source wholesale contracts still seem to be very legal, indeed.
Posted by Confidential at 17:50
Sunday, 2 November 2014
He re-settled in the San Francisco area, and found himself a job as a janitor in a strip mall with a nail salon. One Saturday, he was begged by the salon owner to help with a nails-for-a-wedding-party emergency. She had accidentally double-booked her salon, and two of her nail stylists were out with food poisoning. It turns out he was very talented in the nails department. He was hired full-time, and now has a steady clientele. His best clients are drag queens. Not only is Pablo an excellent manicurist, and cute, but, more importantly, he never judges. He is living the American dream.
Posted by Confidential at 15:12
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Aldous Huxley, his father, a broke-ass drunk, named him so after a guy in a tavern once told him that the original Aldous Huxley had died without any known heirs, and that a sizeable fortune rested in escrow somewhere, awaiting to be inherited. Rather than take care of his son, raise him properly and provide him with a decent education, Hux's dad spent most of his son's childhood forging documents to support the claim to the purported fortune. SPOILER ALERT: there never was a fortune. So now, the dad is serving ten to eighteen for a variety of fraud-related convictions, and Aldous III is a broke-ass drunk who hangs out in taverns listening to cockamamie stories, hoping to find his own get-rich scheme.
Posted by Confidential at 15:49
Sunday, 28 September 2014
Ms. Starrs rose to fame in the 1940's as a starlett of 2nd Millenium Wolf Studios, and appeared several times opposite Heinz Eavestroughing. She was nominated three times for OSMONDtm awards, though never won.
She is perhaps best remembered for her infamous marriage in 1961 to Benicio Lopez de Lopez, dictator of the small island nation of San Santiago. Though they had three children together, the marriage ultimately failed when Lopez de Lopez grew paranoid as leftist guerillas attempted numerous assassination attempts against him. Following her divorce, she returned to live quietly in California, and retired from acting, although she did make a few noteworthy cameo appearances on The Golden Squirrels. Ms. Starrs is survived by her son, Benicio Jr., her two daughters, Sharla and Carla, and by her grandson, Benicio III. Family asks that donations be made to the Hide-a-Nut Foundation en lieu of flowers.
Posted by Confidential at 08:47
Monday, 4 August 2014
Posted by Confidential at 16:37
Sunday, 29 June 2014
Sunday, 22 June 2014
Walter can usually be found at The Wild Boar Bar & Grill up Highway 7. He sits at the bar and wiill tell wild tales to whomever stops in for some beer and nuts. No one really knows much about Walter. Some say he killed another squirrel back in '72. Others say he lost his shit after a firefight gone awry in Vietnam. Most of the rumours, however, are untrue. Walter's real sordid secret was that he used to run a hamster racing ring in Tijuana. Howver, when the cartels started showing up in the early 90's, they wanted a cut of the action. He refused. When it looked like shit was getting real, Walter tried to skip town, but he and his señorita were caught in an ambush. He escaped, she didn't. Now, he smokes his pipe and tells of his time aboard a Liberian freighter.
Posted by Confidential at 05:58
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
Still not content, he looked up a cousin who was studying engineering at the University of Tennessee. Being himself a Nasrani Christian, he was able to get some scholarships from a few churches in the Knoxville area to begin his own computer science degree at UT Chattanooga. It started out well, but then, after a weekend trip, it all changed. His prior love of country music led him, naturally, to Pigeon Forge, and to experience the previously unimaginable: Dolly's Dixieland Stampede. Chaandy's world turned upside down. For the past two years, he has been working tirelessly to find investors for what he hopes will bring Kerala to the big leagues of global tourism: A Vasco da Gama dinner-theatre spectacle at the heart of his Chaandy's Wild Ponnani! amusement park. He is very close to securing funding for "Zamorin's Revenge", the greatest maglev roller coaster in history, capable of reaching 400 km/h (250 mph).
Posted by Confidential at 15:42
Sunday, 15 June 2014
Todd isn't particularly interesting as an individual, but rather the contrast between him and his two sisters is an interesting study in the by-products of post-1960's feminism. On the one-hand, Todd's two older sisters were brought up being told that they could do and be anything they wanted, and that no one could tell them otherwise. Expecting that they could have it all, they both became overachievers, and currently try to balance successful careers and each have begun their own families.
Then, on the other hand, there is Todd. He grew up with the implied message that since he was a boy, he would have it easy in a Man's world. Consequently, he was raised with lowered expectations. He is pretty smart, but has a horrible work ethic. Only his athletic prowess was really pushed to any degree. He putzed around university a few years, juggling various girlfriends and majors, and finally stopped going after he became a manager at a sporting goods store. Now, he mostly spends his time exercising his masculinity in those realms that feminism has largely ignored: farting, playing FPS games online, stashing nuts and watching MMA.
Friday, 13 June 2014
Monday, 26 May 2014
The story of Raijin begins in 1944. His grand-father was a high ranking officer in the Japanese Imperial Navy. He and some colleagues had been on leave for a few days when they were flying back with a few of their favourite concubines. Their plane crashed over a remote South Pacific island. The marooned crew, after waiting months with no avail for a rescue party, accepted their fate and began a thriving little colony on the island. All throughout, word that the war was over never reached the isolated island, and all boys born on the island were trained to be elite warriors, in the strictest Bushido tradition. Once re-connected to the war effort, these men would unleash swift retribution unto any enemy. But rescue never came for Raijin's father, and so when Raijin was born (like his father, he is named for the God of Thunder), a new generation of warriors emerged.
Last year, a Japanese whaling boat wandered upon the island whilst trying to avoid Greepeace activists. The “scientists” aboard were astonished to find the colony of almost sixty inhabitants, Raijin included. Although raised in traditional Japanese fashion, Raijin was completely unprepared for modern Japanese life. Once he got over the fact that they had lost the war (kinda bursting a huge myth bubble of the invincibility of the Japanese warrior), he is now trying to wrap his head around Hello Kitty, amongst other things. He is seeing a shrink thrice weekly. After contemplating seppuku, he instead turned his physical prowess to dominating the Dance Dance Revolution. He's like a ninja at it.
Posted by Confidential at 16:41
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
Tyrone took over his Uncle's barbecue joint, Ol' Jumbo's Chicken & Ribs, in 1994, and has since been churning out some of the best ribs in the Carolinas for the past two decades. That being said, so does Jeb's Oink Pit across town. The smoked rib rivalry between the two has been going on since the Johnson administration, and was for the large part a friendly one. But all that changed last year when Jeb passed on the Oink Pit to his grandson, Jeb III (or Junior Junior, as he is called in the family). Jr. Jr. recently got Netflix, and began watching House of Cards. Seeing the success of the BBQ joint in that series, he began a letter writing campaign to all local congressman & senators to patronise his rib joint. Tyrone, hearing of this, decided to follow suit, and added mayors and sheriffs to his mailing list, too.
Each elected official showing up resulted in photos being taken and sent to the rival restaurant. When Tyrone heard that Jr. Jr. was spreading lies that Ol' Jumbo's was making political donations to the other party, he knew the gloves were off. He snuck in one night and replaced all of Jr. Jr.'s sugar with salt, and paprika with cayenne.
The next day, when he tasted his sauce just before opening, Jr. Jr. had a nasty surprise... and had to cancel an order for a baseball tournament. Coincidentally, Tyrone had an extra thirty full racks already done when the tournament organisers called in a panic to find ribs. Ah... Tyrone.... You sneaky bastard.
Posted by Confidential at 14:18
Sunday, 4 May 2014
Chubbs Ferguson & the Hound Harbor Tugboats. The only seven- (Yes! SEVEN!) time winner of the Southeast Olde-Tyme Music Association artist of the year, he was also inducted last year in Mountain Music Hall of Fame. His talent on the dobro is so extreme, it has become commonplace for other squirrels in the music scene to aspire to having "chops like Chubbs". Unfortunately, since "the accident", Chubbs doesn't tour much anymore. He claims it is because of back pain, but many say it's for the shame of it all. Last spring, after a sold-out show in Wichita, his car was found in the morning wrapped around a telephone pole along Route 15. When the police found him, he was unconscious, and two nubile prairie dogs, half his age, were barely clinging onto life in the back seat. The police report states he suffered a mild heart attack, but most suspect the real cause was his penchant for Zima.
Posted by Confidential at 09:14
Monday, 28 April 2014
The story of Pearl goes back to 1934 in Boise City, Oklahoma. Her grandparents owned a ranch not too far out of town, but, at the peak of the dust bowl, they had to cull the herd. They lost everything. Pearl's family packed up everything Henry Fonda-style and they made their way to California. There, Pearl's grandmother had a younger sister, named Pearl, who was a cigarette girl at the Copacabana Club. It didn't pay much, but she let the family stay with her in a little studio apartment until they were on their feet. Pearl's grandmother found a job as a seamstress at MGM, and her grandfather found a job as a line cook at a diner. It wasn't the high-life, but they pulled through. After the war, the family re-settled in Oregon, and as a tribute, each successive generation named the first-born girl "Pearl".
Now, you'd think that with a story like that, one would be proud to have such a name, but not Pearl. She's in her twenties and she feels it makes her sound like a granny. As with many Millennials, she doesn't care much for what isn't an Apple product, and is quite resentful of her parents. Why couldn't she just be Jessica or Taylor or something normal? It's something she obsesses over quite a bit, actually... Well, come to think of it, she obsesses over pretty much everything. She's kinda like that. Obsessive, I mean. She is organised to a degree which is beyond anally retentive. (If you were to give her a coal suppository, she'd poop out a diamond). However, she's pretty creative too. By making liberal use of her local dollar store, she makes hand-made glittered file organisers and sells them on etsy. Who says you can't be both orderly and fabulous?
Friday, 25 April 2014
Randolf was raised by two English professors in a small New England town. He was given the false impression from a young age that everyone should care about how he feels, so he became a poet. Since High School, he has been publishing the pointless drivel that comes out of him in whatever rag he can find. There seems to be an audience for the crap he writes, but it is mostly made up of other “poets” publishing in the same low-rent pits of narcissistic literature periodicals. To wit:
Flower of Winter by Ràndolf – (Of course, he doesn't use his last name, and adds gratuitous accents.)
I am the apostate
I blaspheme with her touch
The warmth of her sigh
Is a bloom under the solstice.
Long, long night
Lonely no more:
The visions I once had
Are now at home in my temple.
And yet, the guilt
As a flower of winter
I mean: what the hell does that even mean? It's like David Lynch is sending texts to himself about... pleasuring oneself? Is he cheating on himself? I don't get it.
Anyway, back to Randolf. Chances are he'll also get his PhD in English Lit, once he finishes his MA, and then get a similar job to his parents (though through an endless string of course loads, never actually getting tenure - that's just the way the wind blows these days). And so the cycle continues.
Posted by Confidential at 16:11
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Remember that European metal band from some years ago (From, I want to say: Denmark?) that had that really big power ballad? Well, the drummer had an older brother, Udo, who is still resentful for his brother's coke-fueled sex rampage that was the 1997 world tour. While his brother was touring the world, Udo had to stay at home and take care of their ailing mother. He had to drop out of school, abandoning his dream of becoming a lepidopterist . Thankfully the mother got better – turns out her veganism was making her anaemic – and he got a decent job as a night custodian at the Lego factory (so yeah, I was right: totally Denmark). He has to frequently change mothballs in the urinals, but that's as close as he gets to his dream. However! Just this weekend, though, he received a surprise visit from his estranged brother, who, in a bid for reconciliation, is sending Udo to a one-month intensive butterfly seminar in Borneo this summer.
Posted by Confidential at 04:55
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
Although Chaz and Darren both grew up just a couple of blocks away from each other, they represent very different versions of the modern Australian man. Since high school, Darren stayed in Wodonga. He's a hard working, salt-of-the-Earth kind of fella. Since technical college he's worked as a mechanic at the local Holden dealership. He listens to Slim Dusty, and cheers on his West Coast Eagles (his dad is from Perth). He and Liz have been together for seven years, now. Maybe this Christmas he'll propose.
Chaz, on the other hand, is a complete tosser. After finishing his year 12 at a private institution, he took a gap year. Actually, it was more of a “clap” year. Whilst backpacking through South-East Asia, he left behind a trail of venereal disease with mostly English and American hostel-dwellers. Now in University, having changed majors six times, he might actually graduate next year. In sports history. Not in engineering like he told mommy and daddy...
Posted by Confidential at 15:59
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
When Mandie was in high school she smoked so much dope. I mean: So. Much. Fucking. Dope. Since the age of fifteen, she has been pretty much constantly high. She thinks her late teens were pretty good years, but it's hard to tell, as it is all pretty much a haze. She thinks she remembers dragons somewhere in there, but that's probably just the summer she followed Phish around on tour, and lived on a steady diet of shrooms and peyote. That was when she was dating Taz (if you can call it that... it was when she was whatever filthy hippies who form a couple do: that). Since then, though, Mandie decided to open up her own store. She sells karmically-aligned gemstones, vegan cookies, and, medicine. And by medicine, I mean weed. She's not rich, though, because she has to pay child support to Taz, with whom she adopted a child while they were together. Well, 'adopted' isn't quite right... it was just one of those World Vision sponsor a child things, but she's way too baked to clue in on that, and Taz has been milking thousands out of her for years. See, kids? This is why you should just say "No!" to drugs. And stay in school. Probably that, too.
Friday, 4 April 2014
McGurley was a hard-nosed, hard drinking detective for twenty years. He played by his own rules, and always got the job done. Anyone who knows him knows you just don't fuck with McGurley: with a name like that, you learn to stand up for yourself pretty damned early if you want to survive in the school yard. In 2009, McGurley found out his Lieutenant was on the take from the Russian mob. His Lt. threatened him, so McGurley killed him. In prison, the Russkies sent some guys to shiv him. So he killed 'em too. You just don't fuck with McGurley.
Posted by Confidential at 13:53
Monday, 24 March 2014
When anyone first meets Rhonda the first thing they want to do is to judge her for her poor life choices. True, she lives off of social benefits with her eleven kids from eight different baby daddies. True, she can't hold down a job. But what haters need to know is that Rhonda never really had much of a chance in life. She was home-schooled by her mom, who went bat-shit fucking crazy after her dad died of liver failure following years of rampant alcoholism. Then, the front door became a revolving door of mom's “friends”. That didn't keep mom from not teaching Rhonda anything about how the human reproductive system works, or condoms, because that just wouldn't be Christian. Like any child, Rhonda, as she grew older, simply imitated the roles to which she had been exposed. Unfortunately for her, she was surrounded only by shitty role models. And to the other haters who are whining that the photo is not of a squirrel, maybe you should note that the marmota monax is classified in the sciuridae family – ergo, a squirrel. Jesus, read a book.
Posted by Confidential at 04:18
Monday, 10 March 2014
ASBO's between the three of them. Most recently, they were selling expired Kazakh smoked oysters in Blackpool, which they'd purchased at rock-bottom prices from a passing Liberian freighter in Bristol. (They have a mate who knows this pikey fella who has a contact at the port). As of this past Friday, however, all three are in hospital after being neck-nominated to each drink three bottles of Buckies by their cousin Archibald.
Posted by Confidential at 13:20
Saturday, 8 March 2014
When he first started calling people in Canada to see if they wanted their air ducts cleaned, he didn't even know what an air duct was. With the help of the internets, he did a little investigation and not only found out what it was, but also found out how much you could charge to do the cleaning. He dropped everything, and moved to join his cousin living in Brampton, Ontario. He enrolled in college, and became an HVAC specialist. He got married a few years ago, and he and his wife, Amolika, own an HVAC business in Mississauga. It's the 37th largest in the 905. They've made it large. Have YOU made it large?
Posted by Confidential at 05:40
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Posted by Confidential at 20:15
Monday, 17 February 2014
Posted by Confidential at 13:06
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Posted by Confidential at 06:23
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Jamila, much to her chagrine. Although he still loves her, his one true passion is his art. As a performance artist, Manolo dedicates his entire body and soul to his craft. This coming spring, he hopes to return to his home town of La Coruña and stage a piece on abstinence in the digital age. He plans to ride naked atop a castrated bull whilst playing his gaita, going from church to church delivering wheels of cheese, all the while being followed by a retired prostitute who will be tweeting her emotional experience in haiku form. He has recieved six grants from the European Union for this performance piece.
Posted by Confidential at 16:18
Saturday, 8 February 2014
As soon as he was in the ground, Gertrude picked up stakes and bought a condo in a retirement community near Fort Myers, Florida. Nowadays, when she's in a good mood, she toddles over to Applebee's for the early bird special. She's more interested in handsome divorcees than in the 2 for 1 apps, though (she counts her points closely). Most of the time, however, she's bitter, and deals with her anger by whipping pretty much everyone's ass in Canasta, from Naples to Manatee County.