Beat Boxing with Stephen Hawking aka pt.2

Now at the same time that Hairy’s Universe has sexploded and Poppa is literally riding the hot new culinary wave of street meat, Face McSpeces, his fine lady and plethora of model spawn sons pull up stakes on the mainland and head to Hawaii. They quickly acquire an island of their own and establish the “Slayin’ w/ Face n’ Stephen School of Surf” or SWF&SSoS as it becomes affectionately called by the locals.

Most of you don’t know this but Stephen Hawking and Face have been long time friends going back to their days working for the Cerebral Palsy Dance Party Network, (CPDPN) a somewhat successful early cable channel. CPDPN featured people living with CP busting moves to the swinging sounds of multiple DJ’s mashing Mr. Hawking’s love of 70’s disco and Face’s passion for Kraftwerk with a soft focus on Pet Shop Boys for the CP slow dances break down. MC Hawking would then bust out some burly beat box in his Speak n’ Spell so dope it made many question who they actually are and why they even exist. The ill fated CPDPN bit the dust after loosing their Speak n’ Spell sponsorship following Stephen’s decision that he could contribute more to the earth through his career in theoretical physics than genius beat box workings on a child’s toy. In the wake of Stephen's departure Face forever regreted asking "the Hawk" to take mushrooms and run around the forest, finding their true selves. Face tried his best to combine the two and retain Stephen at CPDPN but the result yielded paradoxes yet too massive for the human mind to consume. Years later little had changed between the boys and with their ever tighter families came to a fine decision that the rest of their days would be spent in the love of water education and enlightenment on the warm sandy beaches of Face’s island in Hawaii.

.... to be continued.

What happened to Mixed Species .... part 1.

A.) You don't want to know.

B.) You won't believe us when we tell you.

C.) Our story will change your life.

Sometime in the spring of 2010, unbeknownst to us we were set upon by a sea change. Was it the winds from the bog of eternal stench of the "double dip rainbow" sulfites found in the foie gras wine one of Poppa nymphs made or maybe the neck of a prehistoric rhino thrusting his long dead horn miles beneath the crust of the earth in hopes of luring a worm to that sweet spot between his balls and anus? What ever it was an unexpected hiatus from our general exploits and shemanigans ensued. Through the following seasons each of us held almost as little contact with the world as we did each other.

In late spring 2010 Hairy left in haste on a rocket leaving only a note in his wake. It read “Suck your own fucking roe mayo, you downs corporate robot slutz!” The remaining earth bound Mixed Species boys though bewildered, quickly attributed Hairy’s actions to another drug crazed spaz freak session.

At the same time, Poppa’s ever growing concern for the plight of working class gamers reached a multi headed sirens fever pitch. He proceeded to roll out a fleet of mobile gamer rehab clinics delivering mead and aged under cooked meats to the work places of ren faire/larper/dm/wow crack heads experiencing withdrawals. Alternating his attire from that of Kaylee Frye (Firefly), Sorsha (Willow) and a trans Chaotic Good Elf, Poppa brought many good memories to the struggling gamer crowd hit so hard by recent economic downturns.

Narissa, shield holder of the Vulture Prince writes to Poppa:

“When I saw your dirty, rapey van show up emblazoned with the word “HUZZAH” in goats blood on the side I knew my day would soon bettereth. Never has such a beast shown me that level of unadulterated joy. Long dead are my youthful Hagrid fantasies in the wake of Poppa’s soul crushing trans-Orc passion geyser. Thrusting with the power of almighty Zeus, I was “moyster” than the ocean when you parted my seas and stole my pearl. My legs still shake like a scurvy dog with the thought of walking your plank or stank.”

That last word was hard to make out by way of a ketchup or blood stain. This is only one of the many letters we receive daily at Mixed Species HQ from his legion of ren faire/LARP/DM/WoW/gametard freakfest fans!

Poppa also makes a mean corn dog as the above-mentioned “rapey” van doubles not only as mead wagon but a fairly brutal lunch cart. Though pass on the foie gras wine, past consumers of that unknown liquid are not limited to that of Pat Robertson, Charile Sheen, Moammar Gadhafi a plethora of people wearing magic underwear and all but Corporate of the MS boys.

(to be continued next Friday!)

On another note, We're not gonna make any promises for 2011 short of that we'll be around more and plan on keep all y'all more up to date with our misadventures. Some things to look forward to will be dirty details about porking fellow etsians, art shows about arming whales, sexy felt, birdhouses and maybe a few neon monsters.