Art
“Hi, Billy Rays here with a limited-time offer!”
Those words fueled Billy from the moment he pronounced them. He could only hear such inspiration replay in his head, like a broken record, while he stumbled back into his hallway. Along the way, his neatly ironed suit and white dress shirt had boosted his self confidence, after catching on some high-quality “cotton candy” machine.
He thought it was a cotton candy machine.
As he turned left, he found his beautiful kitchen, with the “ultimate” ladder sitting in the corner, a combination of safety, quality, and versatility in 7 possible folding positions. Only he could hope to achieve such success as Billy had every day as he drank vodka in his professional recording studio, consisting of 20.123 high definition cameras. As recognition, he attempted to pat the ultimate ladder on it's railing, but instead punched through.
To the right of the ultimate ladder rested the fridge, holding his good old fashioned cola. It was like digging through his fridge, which had drove his mind back to where he rescued the “ultimate” ladder from the thieving truck driver who had parked in front of his fantastic mansion. He knew that the “ultimate” ladder he found was the only one innocent, due to it retaining its silver sheen, unlike the rest of the crooked ladders. Although the weight was unbearable, he was able to drag it away before the driver came back. While he recalled his perfect adventure, he jammed his arm into the fridge, hoping to find his bottle of beer with minimum hand-to-eye coordination.
He then realized that there was thick sludge swishing around his arm, as well as chunks of consumables. Thoughts of finally being blessed for his efforts flooded his mind as he grabbed a chunk of “mystery magic” and brought it to his lips, hoping to gain the glory of Billy Mays' success. Billy Rays only then noticed everything was not as it seemed.
Instantly being gagged by the horrid odor that was disguised by his alcohol, perfection was replaced with reality. His arm, still inside the “fridge”, was actually deep within his rust-stained toilet. As he looked to his left, the ultimate ladder had actually transformed into a bloodied horse that was sitting up-right against the corner of the corrupted bathroom, with a hole leading to its maggot-filled heart. The ultimate ladder, which he cared for more than himself, was dead to him.
“No, no! No! No! No! No!”
His mind couldn't handle the contrast of such contradicting realities, one of perfection, and the other of his worst nightmare. Fury radiated off of himself as he glared at the horse with the intensity of an Obama. His fists were fast and furious as they connected to every limb of the dead horse, beating it to a massive pulp of rotting flesh.
“This has to bring back my ultimate ladder, it must!”
While not completely sober, he eventually pummeled to the end, without the return of his “ultimate” ladder. As he delivered the last punch through the fleshy mass of bone, hide, and maggots, the ceiling caved into where the horse fell, and had thrown its flesh onto Billy, but he didn't bother. He limped back to where his studio was, knowing that we would never be able to achieve the ultimate success of Billy Mays and that of which his “ultimate” ladder had led. The cotton-candy machine that he always favored was replaced with a popcorn machine, with a rod of rebar erected outward. As he turned, however, the studio was replaced with a cardboard box with the label of “Office Depot”, mocking him in the middle of his torn up living room.
He had nothing, although he thought he did because of his effort. He poured his rage into his arms as he swung at the cardboard box wildly, while only succeeding in hitting the walls. After his fit of rage, he ran outside, hoping for something to reward his efforts and his time spent, which were of massive size to only himself. He then realized as he looked around, he was, in reality, a hobo. His suit had been replaced with a grease-stained wife-bearer, which had been torn just recently.
At that moment, Billy realized that he couldn't do anything else, and resorted back to his 'studio'. He grabbed the cardboard box and placed it outside, for his own self-being. He couldn't do anything on his own, as he had proven to himself, so he also grabbed a megaphone that he found under the horse remains, and pronounced with glorious and furious determination, “Hi, Billy Rays here with a free offer!”
Art
“Hi, Billy Rays here with a limited-time offer!”
Those words fueled Billy from the moment he pronounced them. He could only hear such inspiration replay in his head, like a broken record, while he stumbled back into his hallway. Along the way, his neatly ironed suit and white dress shirt had boosted his self confidence, after catching on some high-quality “cotton candy” machine.
He thought it was a cotton candy machine.
As he turned left, he found his beautiful kitchen, with the “ultimate” ladder sitting in the corner, a combination of safety, quality, and versatility in 7 possible folding positions. Only he could hope to achieve such success as Billy had every day as he drank vodka in his professional recording studio, consisting of 20.123 high definition cameras. As recognition, he attempted to pat the ultimate ladder on it's railing, but instead punched through.
To the right of the ultimate ladder rested the fridge, holding his good old fashioned cola. It was like digging through his fridge, which had drove his mind back to where he rescued the “ultimate” ladder from the thieving truck driver who had parked in front of his fantastic mansion. He knew that the “ultimate” ladder he found was the only one innocent, due to it retaining its silver sheen, unlike the rest of the crooked ladders. Although the weight was unbearable, he was able to drag it away before the driver came back. While he recalled his perfect adventure, he jammed his arm into the fridge, hoping to find his bottle of beer with minimum hand-to-eye coordination.
He then realized that there was thick sludge swishing around his arm, as well as chunks of consumables. Thoughts of finally being blessed for his efforts flooded his mind as he grabbed a chunk of “mystery magic” and brought it to his lips, hoping to gain the glory of Billy Mays' success. Billy Rays only then noticed everything was not as it seemed.
Instantly being gagged by the horrid odor that was disguised by his alcohol, perfection was replaced with reality. His arm, still inside the “fridge”, was actually deep within his rust-stained toilet. As he looked to his left, the ultimate ladder had actually transformed into a bloodied horse that was sitting up-right against the corner of the corrupted bathroom, with a hole leading to its maggot-filled heart. The ultimate ladder, which he cared for more than himself, was dead to him.
“No, no! No! No! No! No!”
His mind couldn't handle the contrast of such contradicting realities, one of perfection, and the other of his worst nightmare. Fury radiated off of himself as he glared at the horse with the intensity of an Obama. His fists were fast and furious as they connected to every limb of the dead horse, beating it to a massive pulp of rotting flesh.
“This has to bring back my ultimate ladder, it must!”
While not completely sober, he eventually pummeled to the end, without the return of his “ultimate” ladder. As he delivered the last punch through the fleshy mass of bone, hide, and maggots, the ceiling caved into where the horse fell, and had thrown its flesh onto Billy, but he didn't bother. He limped back to where his studio was, knowing that we would never be able to achieve the ultimate success of Billy Mays and that of which his “ultimate” ladder had led. The cotton-candy machine that he always favored was replaced with a popcorn machine, with a rod of rebar erected outward. As he turned, however, the studio was replaced with a cardboard box with the label of “Office Depot”, mocking him in the middle of his torn up living room.
He had nothing, although he thought he did because of his effort. He poured his rage into his arms as he swung at the cardboard box wildly, while only succeeding in hitting the walls. After his fit of rage, he ran outside, hoping for something to reward his efforts and his time spent, which were of massive size to only himself. He then realized as he looked around, he was, in reality, a hobo. His suit had been replaced with a grease-stained wife-bearer, which had been torn just recently.
At that moment, Billy realized that he couldn't do anything else, and resorted back to his 'studio'. He grabbed the cardboard box and placed it outside, for his own self-being. He couldn't do anything on his own, as he had proven to himself, so he also grabbed a megaphone that he found under the horse remains, and pronounced with glorious and furious determination, “Hi, Billy Rays here with a free offer!”
Shrek then proceeded to burst through Billy Rays' chest, leaving a gaping hole lined around the rim with Obama fingers.
