HANK’S VAN – STORY #9 IN THE HANK SAGA- BY: D.e.e.L
REMEMBER THAT TIME NINA RUINED HANK’S VAN? YEA, SO DOES HANK…
“Hey, has anyone seen Nina?”
“Who? I think you mean Gina. Never heard of Nina before. Nice tie green tie by the way.”
“Thanks, it’s actually orange. So, you don’t know where or who she is then, huh?”
“I know who she isn’t, she’s definitely not Stinky, or MC Frisbee Rockstar, or that kid with the bad breath, or the chick trapped in the envelope, or the girl who cut off Hank’s taaaaailllll….you’re Hank aren’t you?”
“You do know where she is! Where is the toaster!!!”
“I’m not telling! And I think you meant to say ‘where is the toaster?’. And I am also running away! Running! Running! You can see me running!”
“Ugh, fine….well…I guess I’ll just have to understand the fact of the situation in which is of current happenings for which I am now a part of and realize that if I ever want to get my true revenge I will first have to go back to what started this whole entire manifestation of incoherent coherence happening within the words crafted within seconds from each other and lacking any formal forms of punctuation within actually halting a sentence to the point where such a man-made ending would be needed until the end of the sentence.”
“ARE YOU OUT OF BREATHE?!”
“YES! COME OVER HERE AND TELL THIS STORY FOR ME PLEASE!”
“ALRIGHT! I’M RUNNING! I’M RUNNING!”
“Well…you can’t find the toaster because I won’t tell you because I need a plot for next week’s story, so for this one I will finally just have a story about you for once and tell the whole four or five people that actually read these stories about “That Hank guy named Hank” and maybe people will start to think of you as more of the hero, but probably most certainly they will not end up viewing you that way, because I will build up the story in a manner that makes you seem nice, but then at the end I will make you mean again.
So, you get up from the floor that you were on because you slipped on the orange juice container I had covered in olive oil and left right there for you to slip on because I thought it would be funny and you got up and walked up the ceiling without even having to walk up the wall first and I wrote it down while you were doing it so that people could read it and try to follow along with what is happening right now within the context of something I wrote yesterday before anyone but myself had the chance to read it, and yes, I totally laugh while writing these stories.
Once outside of the building of which you were once inside and on the ceiling of that which had the secret hatch to get outside you remember you forgot your wallet inside, but I already took it, so like…it’s too late. This angers you, but then you remember that you have a wad of cheese in your hair and you pull it from your armpit and commence the eating process as your nose gets all stuffy because you forgot that you are allergic to pollen and you had rubbed some in your armpits this morning because you sprinted out of deodorant last time you used it, which was the day before this one and also not, because you got frozen in time for twenty minutes when you went into the freezer and couldn’t scrape the ice cream out of the container fast enough.
Upon arriving at the place you were walking to as I was talking about your armpits you press a button on your pocket and your wallet disappears from the middle of my wallet-blueberry surprise sundae, which really bums me out because once I took a bite I found out that the only surprise was just that there really was no surprise because I had used yoga to make myself forget for five minutes about the surprise, but then became totally bummed out once the surprise was revealed within my mind that knows things in which happen to me during my time of being awake.
You walk into the van dealership and slap it on the table. The man in a dress-suit does a curtsy and winks at what you have placed on the table. He picks up the brick made of paper and star dust and begins to twirl it around in the air. While he is distracted you jump over the counter and do something really nice for him by organizing his files for him right before you steal a set of keys and run into the van painted purple and green and gonteloparis. Once you get up from having knocked yourself out by running in the van you open the door and get into the van just as the man in the dress suit realizes that the brick is actually made of used talon-clippers.
You press the button in the van that says ‘Do Not Touch’ because you have seen a lot of movies and you know that anything that says that usually does something pretty awesome. The van vanishes and you fall to the ground and regret having pushed the button with the warning label that told you to not push it at all. The man in the dress-suit pulls from his mind a brain launcher and aims it at your feet. You try to run away, but he is making it very difficult. The brains hit your feet and with each hit your feet become smarter and smarter, until eventually they are smart enough to know that they deserve better shoes than what you can afford, so they leave and in turn leave you without feet. You remove your wooden hands and place them on your head before realizing that was a bad decision, if only he had aimed at your head and not your feet. The time taken to make the transfer of your hands to your head was all the man in the dress-suit needed to sign the papers and hand them to you for your new van!”
You signed the papers
Then looked up into the sky
But you were inside
So there was a ceiling up there.
By Dan Leicht (D.e.e.L) April, 17, 2015
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Wait…Hank writes POETRY?
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