What Happens When You Dip Your Soul In A Chocolate Ice-Cream, Urine
And Motor Oil Mixture
I was sitting on my balcony (now that's a lie) thinking about my childhood (now
that's an even bigger lie) when guess who walked into my (in)famous studio apartment (huge lie)
in Western Borneo (huger lie)? That's right! Ernie (hugest of huge lies)!
Well, to make a long story longer, he had some food with him. Not your (yes, you, the reader
of this boring drab (lie and a half)) ordinary food. He had his favorite peanut butter and
mayonnaise on two-day-old, dried-out hamburger buns sandwich. I lost my last girlfriend (way
huge large lie) over 26 and 3/4 of those just this last Christmas. Did I mention it was December
23rd (lie)? Something else Ernie liked to eat, if that's what you'd call it, was some
kind of beef covered with his mothers homemade spaghetti sauce (whopping lie) with crushed
potato chips and raw salmon. Now try three, gracious helpings of that and then ride your (you
again) favorite roller-coaster. Which, of course, Ernie had to try: another story for another
Well, enough with the formalities. Let's get down to the meat of this so-called story.
So, I'm lifting weights (lie). Something like 250 pounds (lie), and Ernie, with his mouth half
full of obnoxious food, that before mentioned sandwich, says to me...
No, I won't quote this, because my memory isn't perfect.
We should go to the beach and get some babes.
Now I ponder this statement. What was I going to do: sit home and call a hundred chicks
(yep, another extremely obvious lie) and go out with one of them tonight; or go to
the beach with Ernie and have no chance to find a potential sleeping mate for the evening? So, I
flipped a coin (lie times six).
So, me and Ernie are on the beach, when a great idea hits me: I could bury myself in
the sand and be rid of Ernie forever. Well, I'm digging away frantically (lie, lie, lie) when Ernie
walks over with this woman, whom I fall in love with immediately (I lie like a rug). Well, me
being a gentlemen, I ask her to marry me (1 and 1/3 lie). She says yes, and we ride off into the
sunset (the grand-daddy of all lies), leaving Ernie holding a can of beer (lie: it was really a jar of
So, me and my wife are sitting on our balcony (do I have to type it again?) (gee, I
guess so) (lie), when Ernie comes over. I looked at my wife with no name (now that's the truth),
and she suggested we give Ernie something he's never eaten: chocolate ice-cream, urine (hers)
(big lie) (mine) (bigger lie) (Ernie's) (biggest lie), and 40 weight motor oil. To my surprise, 50
weight works better. Well, Ernie eats it and leaves.
I was happy, because I got rid of Ernie, but I lost a good bowl of ice cream.
Well, one last thing (exceedingly huge lie): the title has no real relevance to this horrid story,
just the bit about the ice cream, urine and motor oil, but it just sounded cool, and got you (yes,
you) to waste your time reading this garbage.
Well, I gotta go find those hand-grenades... (lie)
©1997, Merriel Patrick Ebright