apparently all the skin on my arms and face decided that staying bright red would be a good idea. stupid sunburn. honestly, what has the sun done for us lately? sure it provides pretty much everything on this earth with life and nourishment and the like, but it burned me pretty good.
therefore i am putting a hit out on the sun. that's right. i'm looking for a few good mercenaries to take that giant ball of gas out. i'll fund you and provide whatever it is you need to get the job done. all that counts is that you make the sun dead. there are some mission parameters however:
1. you must actually make the sun die. none of this mr. burns sunblocker crap. it has to go away for good.
2. i will give you money to get on the plane to the arctic, but once you leave the airport, you are on your own. i will leave you a series of clues that will eventually lead you to my ice fortress. upon your arrival at said fortress, you must slay the 2 bengal tigers that guard the frozen gates. only then shall you be worthy of this job.
3. you must provide your own theme music. and if you don't have theme music, then god help you, because there's no way you're taking out the sun without a rousing chorus or a thumpin' techno beat.
4. smokers need not apply.
5. wacky sidekicks are optional. if you wish to have a wacky sidekick to accompany you, but are unable to provide one for yourself, one will be assigned to you. one of the reserves i have waiting is, in fact, a talking chimp named hank.
6. be prepared for the worst. we don't know what kind of defenses the sun has. i have found that most tyrants (and the sun is the greatest tyrant of them all) like to keep themselves surrounded by robots. robots or dogs. perhaps even some sort of robot/dog hybrid. in a space suit.
7. must have experience with unicycles. i cannot divulge at the moment why you must be skilled in the art of unicycling, but i assure you, it is essential.
you have your mission. i begin taking applications on wednesday.
therefore i am putting a hit out on the sun. that's right. i'm looking for a few good mercenaries to take that giant ball of gas out. i'll fund you and provide whatever it is you need to get the job done. all that counts is that you make the sun dead. there are some mission parameters however:
1. you must actually make the sun die. none of this mr. burns sunblocker crap. it has to go away for good.
2. i will give you money to get on the plane to the arctic, but once you leave the airport, you are on your own. i will leave you a series of clues that will eventually lead you to my ice fortress. upon your arrival at said fortress, you must slay the 2 bengal tigers that guard the frozen gates. only then shall you be worthy of this job.
3. you must provide your own theme music. and if you don't have theme music, then god help you, because there's no way you're taking out the sun without a rousing chorus or a thumpin' techno beat.
4. smokers need not apply.
5. wacky sidekicks are optional. if you wish to have a wacky sidekick to accompany you, but are unable to provide one for yourself, one will be assigned to you. one of the reserves i have waiting is, in fact, a talking chimp named hank.
6. be prepared for the worst. we don't know what kind of defenses the sun has. i have found that most tyrants (and the sun is the greatest tyrant of them all) like to keep themselves surrounded by robots. robots or dogs. perhaps even some sort of robot/dog hybrid. in a space suit.
7. must have experience with unicycles. i cannot divulge at the moment why you must be skilled in the art of unicycling, but i assure you, it is essential.
you have your mission. i begin taking applications on wednesday.
1934 W. Irving Park
Chicago, Il