Best Served After Warm-Up Stretches
The oldies were the best. That was what these young whippersnappers always forgot: the old ones were always the best.
You can have your Rick-Rolls, and your toothpaste gags, and your clingfilm jokes… That was fine. Completely fine. They were funny. But they weren't as good as the old ones.
Oh, no sir-ee bob, they're not as good, the Captain thought as he laid the trip-wire. Sometimes, you have to go old-school, and really teach the youth of today something about pranks.
He looked at the tripwire.
It was big – proper rope: he wanted Tintin to see it first. He wanted Tintin to take note, to scoff… To jump over it while making fun of it.
Yes, he thought as he spread the Johnson's Baby Oil in a small – yet slippery – patch on the other side of the trip wire, the old jokes are sometimes the best. And combined, they can be brutal.
Tintin looked at the tripwire. Snowy had stopped to sniff it. The dog was bum-up, head-down, snuffling along the floor. "Pfft!" said the teenager. "That's an old one, don't you think?"
The Captain, standing on the other side of the rope grinning, nodded.
"Close," said Tintin as he hopped over the rope, "but no cig-aaarrrrgh!"
Author's Note: Vigorous crotch-strain without warm-up exercise bloody hurts!
I feel like I should make a quick note on this story (by the way, you guys know that it's updated two chapters at a time, right?). I'm in the middle of a prank war. Every prank here has been done by me, or to me. Since the beginning of this story, there's been a lot of pranks pulled in my house. We get our inspiration from old pranks (like the Captain's) and new pranks (like Tintin's). And believe me: there is nothing quite like hell than getting on a train for a two hour trip and realising that every song in your iPod is Rick freaking Astley. After that, this sh!t is personal, believe me!
What's harder than coming up with a new prank to pull on your co-pranker, is conveying physical comedy into written word. Don't believe me? Go and find a youtube video that cracks you up and then send me a PM of a written summation of that video. No links; just words. It is hella harder than you think to make physical comedy funny in the medium of written word. That's why these updates happen only once in a while. Each update takes about a month (three weeks is my best) to get right. The basis of the prank is there, but while it is funny visually, it's not so funny typed out. To make it funny in written form, I need to write it by hand; edit it; type it out; edit it again; send it to the people involved in the prank war (yes, there is more than one: I am besieged on all sides!); if they find it funny I edit it one final time and then post it here.
What bums me out is to see this story (or anything I've written) uploaded to another author's page with the names changed. That's not cool. In fact, that freaking sucks. Unless you've jumped over a tripwire and sprained your vagina - or cock - (or bitten into a toothpaste cake ,and opened up a shook-up can of Coke, and walked into a room where every single piece of furniture is stacked in a perfect pyramid) you don't know. You just don't know.
TL;DR version: don't copy my stories, d's*
*Where "d's" is douchebags.
Ps: I'm working on Tintin in the Democratic Republic of Congo, but I'm waiting for this Kony 2012 stuff to die down. And I'd like to take a note that I had Tintin in Paris up and published before Facebook mentioned Kony and the invisible children.