The Great Starbucks Alien Invasion|
Why People Keep Drinking This Gag-Juice
So, I sez to Lulu, you see, Lulu is my gal, I sez to Lulu, "Whatcha' wanna do
now?" You see, we had just finished some hot lovemaking and of course, when a soldier
is done making love to his woman, well, you know, you can either go to sleep or you can
do something else. So, I sez to my gal, Lulu, "Whatcha wanna do now?" trying to
find out if was ok to go to sleep or if she wanted to do something else.
Well, it turns out Lulu wants to do something else, and she says she wants to go out somewhere to get some dessert and coffee. So, I sez to Lulu that I ain't exactly rollin' in dough, seeing as to how I just dropped a large chunk of dough on a horse. Well, she gets all mad at me for losing my money on horses, but I sez to Lulu that it was a sure thing. Yep! It was! You see, I got it straight from the Colonel's jeep driver that this horse, "Jolly Gentleman" is a sure thing to win in the fifth race, so I place all my dough on this horse at 49 to 1. I figure I'll clear 2 grand at least, then I can buy a big diamond ring and marry Lulu just like I always promised. Exceptin' that this "Jolly Gentleman" turns out to only have 3 legs and two of them is bad! I asked the Colonel's jeep driver about his "sure thing" and he sez he just can't figure what went wrong because he got it straight from the Colonel, well actually, he got it straight from the Colonel's bookie (now don't go spreadin' this around!) and that's just as good as the Colonel himself.
Well, anyway the bottom line is I don't have much dough and Lulu wants to go out. She suggests we go Dutch. Well, I hush her up and tell her not to go 'round using language like that. She asks me what do I mean, and so I had to tell her all about the Dutch threat to America. Honest! Yeah, you think that they are all just these quiet people with nothing but cheese and tulips, but I hear it straight from the Colonel's jeep driver that the Dutch plan to take over America! Sure! After all, they invented sabotage! Sure they did! Those wooden shoes that all Dutch people have to wear are named "sabots". They have to wear these sabots so they can be ready to instantly sabotage any machinery no matter where they are in the world! Honest! It's in their secret Dutch Constitution. I heard it straight from the Colonel's jeep driver. He says that you can even find this secret constitution thing on the Internet. Wooden shoes and all! You see, the Colonel knows some inside guys at the FBI and they say that they suspect that it was a wooden shoe in the engine of that 747 that blew up last year that started all the trouble. He says that it was supposed to signal the start of the Dutch invasion, but we were lucky that time. The shoe wasn't supposed to blow up the engine until the plane was over the Atlantic where no one could see. Now, this FBI guy says, they have a radar track of a small object which doesn't reflect radar very well arching up from the ocean surface towards the plane. Get it? Small? Poor reflector of radar? If that doesn't describe a wooden shoe, I don't know what does. But anyway, the Colonel's jeep driver says the guy at FBI says that since we got this radar track, the Dutch were afraid that there would be witnesses and decided to call off the invasion for now. And if you still need convincing, just think about this: What kind of a treat is "Dutch Treat"?
So having straightened out Lulu, you know, I'm always having to straighten her out, but she says ok, we'll just pay for our own. Good old Lulu. She's like that you know. Always taking care of her soldier. But what happens next is what started me off with this whole story in the first place. You know where this woman wants to go? Starbucks! for Chrissake! She asks why I don't want to go, and it turns out she hadn't even heard about this Starbucks thing. You too? Jeez, everybody knows about this Starbucks thing. Ever since the Colonel's jeep driver found out, he's been telling everybody! Shoot he told me about it last week!
I mean, you have to suspect something really really wierd is going on with this Starbucks thing. First of all, you got this company that comes out of nowhere that spreads like a jungle rot in your boot after a tour in Southeast Asia. Where did they get all that money to build all those stores? And you know, they started up there in Washington state where they got a lot of those survival wierdo's and Big Foot and who knows what else? Then, you gotta look at their product. The coffee tastes worse than Cookie's mud that he serves at chow time in the mess tent. Ask anyone. No one likes it. It's too strong, too bitter. I mean the beans are practically burnt to a crisp! Yet, everywhere you go, people are drinking it. It's in malls, airports, everywhere!
Lulu has this funny look on her face, and I sez, uh huh, ya' see? You see, where she works they bring in Starbucks coffee. Lulu took me there once and they have the Starbucks office kit complete with all that thermal insulation and those special logos. So, I asks Lulu if she ever asked the people there if they like the coffee. She starts to get my drift because I can see by the look on her sweet little face that no one at work likes that burnt bitter stuff, yet they all drink it! I ask Lulu if she knows why and she says they all say they don't know why they drink it but they don't like it.
I think it's pretty clear by now to Lulu that Starbucks is putting something in their horrid coffee to make us keep drinking it. I had always suspected this, because it is the only explanation for why so many people are drinking the awful stuff. Lulu giggles and says she knows why they do it. I ask her why and she says that Starbucks must be owned by Bill Gates because he lives up in that part of the country and he wants to get richer so he puts some drug in the coffee to make us all drink it, sort of like he puts subliminal demonic messages in his Windows screen savers to make us all use his inferior graphical user interface which he tries to peddle as a multitasking operating system. "Christ!" she cries out, "you can't even freaking copy a freaking diskette and then switch to another window!" I just nod and say, uh huh. "Multitasking, my ass!" she shouts. You see, Lulu is one of those computer hacker types. I always say that a soldier doesn't need no steeeenking computers, but she knows all about computers and stuff. She says she is going to explain more to me about this Windows/Bill Gates stuff so I can check with the Colonel's jeep driver about it. You see, the Colonel is a bit of a hacker himself! In fact, I've already heard from the Colonel's jeep driver that Bill Gates has a plot to change the numbers on the years. Something about saying that he's gonna have a new version of Windows in 1997 then he calls it Windows 98 because...well, I don't know why. That's what I still got to find out.
But I sez to Lulu, no, it's even worse than that. I hold her tight when I tell her that I got it straight from the Colonel's jeep driver: Starbucks is run by aliens! That's right! The Colonel knows some folks over at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and he says they say that there have been an unusual number of meteorites and comets falling to Earth in the last five years or so. Privately, this one guy says, and he won't say it in public or to the media, but he told the Colonel, that these are really alien spacecraft, the vanguard of an invading alien army! Furthermore, he says, they have seen an unbelievable number of small burning objects entering the atmosphere at high speed! He won't speculate, but he says these things are roughly the size of a coffee bean!
Whoa! I put two and two together and get five! Invading army, people drinking coffee that could kill body lice, aliens. And all those small objects burning up in the Earth's atmosphere must be where they are getting the burnt coffee beans that they sell in their shops! I explain to Lulu that they are using these alien burnt coffee beans to make coffee to control our minds. When we drink the coffee made from these burnt alien coffee beans, our senses are temporarily deadened so that the Starbucks workers, who are all aliens by the way, can impregnate us with their seed! Lulu blushes and I ask her what's wrong and she asks me if I mean that she had sex with that prune faced Starbucks clerk who has zits and smells bad. I sez to Lulu yes, and she shudders, but then I go on to explain, that it isn't sex the way we know it. You see, the Colonel's jeep driver has it straight from the Colonel's friend at JPL that these aliens have tiny sex organs in their index fingers! So everytime, a Starbucks employee gives you change, if they poke at your hand with their index finger, they are having alien sex with you, impregnating you with the alien seed! At this point, Lulu didn't look too well. I started to tell her what my theory was about how they must put some sort of alien body fluid in those Frappucino's and Lulu couldn't take anymore. She covered he mouth and ran to the bathroom. Boy, I never heard such noises coming from such a sweet little girl before!
So get this. They drug us with the coffee. They impregnate us with alien seed. Look what's going to happen. When we're all drugged, we'll all be vulnerable to this alien invasion thing. Our bodies are being used to grow new alien embryos. They are taking all our money by making us drink their coffee so we won't be able to pay for armies to fight off the aliens. Shoot, they even laugh at us. Starbucks. Get it? STAR - BUCKS? Like, money from the stars. Like, ALIEN money? I'll bet those little green bastards are laughing their asses off all over the country! I tell ya', once they have rendered us helpless, there will be alien flying saucers landing all over the country, EVEN ON THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN!
But fortunately, the Colonel found out about all this and he is going to do something about it. The Colonel's jeep driver told me that these Starbucks employees are evil aliens hidden inside those cruddy green apron-suits. They are packed with sophisticated electronic equipment which is constantly beaming weird alien rays into their customers' body cells that they don't impregnate with alien seed. Ya' see, if they can't get us pregnant with alien babies, they hope they will transmogrify the rest of us into off-world beasts that will help them take over. Well, the Colonel's jeep driver says all this electronic equipment renders them vulnerable to counter-attack. Sorta' like those Martian bastards in War of the Worlds who couldn't fight off a common cold and all died when they sneezed or sumthin'.
I hear, and now this is straight from the Colonel's jeep driver, that all you have to do is play Roy Orbison songs when you go into Starbucks and the aliens will self-implode! Honest! The Colonel's jeep driver told me that the Colonel figured this out himself! How about that? Old Lead Bottom figured it out. It seems he got the idea after he saw movie Mars Attacks! where good old grandma was listening to her favorite singer who just so happened to blow up those darn Martian heads inside them glass globes! Well, Old Lead Bottom, figures that he'll sneak a cassette recorder into Starbucks and try it out! And according to the Colonel's jeep driver, the Colonel started up the tape and all the workers started holding their heads and screaming!
You see, when good ol' Roy hits those high notes, it interferes with all the delicate sophisticated electronic equipment that they got buried in their bodies, creates feedback or something and BLEWIE!! No more alien bastard! I hear it's pretty messy, but it's worth it. The Colonel's jeep driver says you can scrape most of it off, and the rash goes away in a few weeks. But, hey! It's got to be better than risking some kind of alien VD! You know, like that stuff you can get in Thailand? Man, oh, man. I couldn't touch Lulu for 6 weeks after I got back from that tour in the Phillipines. And only God knows what kind of alien AIDS they must have! No sir! No alien sex for this soldier!
But, I swear this Roy Orbison thing does the trick! You never hear Roy Orbison playing in Starbucks, do you? No sir! It's because they would blow up if you did. So, I just went down to Way-Mart and bought me a cassette of Roy Orbison's greatest hits, a battery powered cassette player with a strap so I can wear it around my neck, and a whole case of AA batteries. I bought a set for Lulu too! We're ready to fight these raping alien bastards. We won't have to drink that alien burnt excuse for coffee anymore! And our women will be safe from aliens impregnating them with alien seed, too. In fact, I'm going down to Starbucks right now to give a little "Pretty Woman" to that smelly zit-faced alien bastard who had sex with my Lulu. Nobody puts their sex organ in my Lulu's hand and lives to tell about it! DIE, YOU SMELLY RAPING ALIEN ZIT-FACED PRUNE-HEAD BASTARD!!
And I swear this is all true! Honest! I got it straight from the Colonel's jeep driver!
|DISCLAIMER: All the information contained on this page is not true. It didn't really come from a jeep driver. We don't know any colonel's or their girlfriends. It is all made up and intended to be funny. So, please don't sue us for libel or whatever, if you find yourself contained on this page. Lawyers for President Clinton and Starbucks, please make a note of this. Please don't base any major life-changing decisions on what you read here. We know this should be obvious, but the fact that there are UFO freaks and grassy-knoll freaks out there makes this disclaimer necessary.|
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