“Welcome to Club Donk. Did you bring your Donk Key this time?” said the gatekeeper.
“Yes, it is right here.” said the keymaster as he raised his key towards the gatekeeper. This made the gatekeeper happy; however, he denied any admittance of this sensation by responding in a unsatisfactory manner.
“Whoa! Get that thing out of my face punk?!?!” bellowed the gatekeeper. This startled the keymaster since the term “punk” was foreign to him and in truth had not been invented yet. It was not until centuries later that the term was solidified in text when Mr. Webster misspelled Funk & Wagnalls. In truth, he hated the pair and the act was intentional - but none of these people had any clue… well, at least until Martin the great knight came from the future and spilled the beans on it all. The keymaster was unaware of this event because he had recently canceled his subscription to The Daily Court.
“If I would have wanted that crooked Donk Key in my face, I would have clearly specified a request for such an act!” the gatekeeper continued. “Now enter, before I revoke your Club Donk Gold Membership Hee-haw All-Access Backdoor Pass.”
“Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine…..fine….fine………….fine.” replied the keymaster with an echo in his voice. This was a strange phenomenon because his mouth was so large and cave-like that it provided its own echoes on random occasions.
Club Donk was a fascinating place. To outsiders it seemed like a strange Club (or gathering of imbeciles as some would say) in which Donk Masters would sit around a strange table talking about dexterity points and rolling multi-sided rocks at each other. They all seemed to have strange names whenever they gathered as well. They referred to these rendezvous’s as Dungeons & Donk Keys. A Donk Key was required for admittance, which was basically a custom painted shield with something like a family crest or something. Most people thought it was just a phase and they would eventually get on with ransacking, pillaging and destroying villages, but alas they were wrong.
Club Donk continues to operate to this day in an undisclosed location possibly at the summit of Mount Everest. It’s a place where men become boys and women become angry.
There once was a little boy who loved pirates. His infatuation was actually kind of creepy. Some even said this little boy had a problem, which is why he was admitted to the asylum. Arggghhh this, Argggggh that… it was really annoying, which is why he was given his own room at the psych ward. We shall call this little boy Logan.
Logan was a strange little kid and he got beat up all the time. Surprisingly, Logan was able to rebound rather quickly from these barrages of brutality. On average it only took him about 3 hours to recover.
Shortly after admitting Logan, the hospital was excited to hear about a top secret government project called Barong D, a follow-up project to Weapon X (which resulted in a furry Canadian guy with a metal skeleton which was, years later, taken away by a greedy Magnet). It appeared that working at the “crazy” hospital provided a lot of free time for its employees who used it to learn how to hack into top secret government computer networks. This might have been aided by the fact that the only VHS tapes available were Hackers and The Karate Kid with the swanky chick - boys do cry, and they cry a lot apparently, which is why Hackers was the more popular of the two.
This top secret government project that nobody but the hospital knew about was requesting a really annoying “piratey kid” who could get beat up and recover quickly. Redonk, the janitor of the hospital, was like “Whoa!” (just as Joey L. would say) as he realized that Logan fit the bill. So they sent little Logan away to the government, but not after beating him up one more time to make sure he healed as well as they remembered. Three hours later, he was gone.
13 years passed by, and no one heard anything from that annoying little pirate kid. Suddenly, one fine 13th of Friday in October there was a rap upon the front door. It was signed - “25 cent”. As he grabbed the note, Redonk exclaimed: “I am lucky tonight! Whoa! I should buy a Lotto ticket!”
“ARRRRRGGGGYYYHHHHHH, Ya feelin’ lucky punk?!?!”
Redonk jumped as the piratey sound shivered his timbers. He looked up and saw a strapping young lad who looked an awful lot like that annoying little Logan kid except now he was draped in full Pirate Garb - including the 3 P’s (parrot, patch and peg). He also had two really cool hooks for hands.
“Whoa! Nice hooks mate…”
That was all he got a chance to say as his barnacles were cleaned out with metal.
Redonk obviously was not very lucky.
A long, long time ago….
There was a Turkey named Rupert. He was a simple stable turkey… so simple that some called him Simple Roo and made rather unsettling songs and jingles about him - capitalizing on the fact that Roo rhymed with a very foul thing, we shall leave it at that. This made Rupert sad. And as we all know there is nothing more sad than a crying turkey. He was the loneliest turkey in the world. That is until Charles came along.
Charles V was a great lord and warrior of the medieval era. He was known for being lordly and warrior-like in everything that he did. One day, Charles numero cinco was strolling around his “kingdamn” (he thought that sounded much cooler than kingdom - what a tool), when as he approached one of the local stables a squire said to him “Lordy-Yo! Charles Cinco you are looking totally awesome today and your hair is looking majorly warrior-like!” This was odd since he was completely devoid of hair on his head.
“Thanks Deebag (common medieval-speak)” said Chuckness V as he made a very lord-like gesture. Then like fate had brought them together, he locked gazes with Rupert the Stable Turkey.
Chuckness adopted this little friend and brought him home. He fed him well and they quickly became great friends. He even gave him his favorite shield and helmet, which fit Rupert surprisingly well. One day he told Rupert, “I dub thee Armor Turkey; Rupert Armor Turkey.” He was instantly made s’awesome. Then the unexpected happened. As Charles V was dubbing Roo, he tripped and chopped off his head… sending him into a running fit. So to stop the bleeding and save his little friend, Chuckness V ate him.
The moral of this story? Don’t play with swords and shields with your friends, but it is ok to use them to prepare your turkey. In fact, it might just make you a little bit cooler to whip out your 7 foot claymore and show your turkey who’s the boss (hint: it’s not Tony Danza).