Back in early 2018 I had created a new character to work with known as, Mr. Himself. I would then use this character as the star of quite a few comedy skits I published that double as educational spoofs most folks within this community might be able to relate to. Often I'd be able to catch new readers completely off guard with this material. They'd click, expect to learn, then quickly realize they're witnessing probably the biggest train wreck this chain has ever seen.
Today, for #Showcase-Sunday, I've decided to gather as many deserving Mr. Himself skits and spoofs I could find, then tuck them all neatly into one post. I've done this with nearly every other series I've ran so I figured it's time Mr. Himself got his chance to shine as well.
Fair warning:This material is intended for mature audiences. Grab your favorite beverage and a snack since there's a lot here. Maybe bookmark for later as well.
Enjoy:
Act 1
Reading Comprehension and You: How to Avoid Looking Like an Idiot
Warning:If you were drawn to this because of the flashy image,
please pay attention.
Welcome.
I am Mr. Himself.
Today we learn about reading and paying attention.
Please note:If you started to scroll down with the hopes of finding another flashy image to gaze upon, you have already failed this lesson and it hasn't even started yet. Please go back to the top and begin again.
Please do not allow yourself to be tricked by the word paying in front of the word attention. You will not be charged a fee.
Please note:If the line above does not make sense to you because you haven't seen those words anywhere, you have already failed this lesson. Please go back to the top and begin again.
Lesson One
I think I'm better than you(Please note:If you were already triggered into thinking I'm some sort of arrogant douchebag, you have failed this lesson. Please go back to the top and begin again.) at golf.
Please note: It's never wise to dive into the teacher's personal life to begin judging the flaws in their personality, mid-sentence. At least give them a chance to finish what they are about to say, then pick them apart.
Lesson Two
Just because I'm better at golf than you are, that doesn't mean you can't improve. It's meant to be motivational, not insulting. Relax.
Lesson Three
I thought I told you to relax!
Clearly, you have failed this lesson. Are you here just to mess around or did you come here to learn! Now sit down! Start the lesson over.
Lesson Four
I'm sorry.
I've been having a few problems at home lately. I mean, I like macaroni; but macaroni every day?
Look at my lunch today!
Fucking Macaroni Salad! Again!
That's the third time this week; and it's Wednesday!
Do you know what that means? Macaroni goddamn salad every day!
Lesson Five
First you take your spoon!
See the spoon! Yeah! This spoon! This plastic piece of shit!
She made me take them back home so she can wash them.
This one has a name! They all do!
Meet, February!
Lesson Six
Dip it in there real good and stir!
Round and round! You see! You see how I'm doing that!
At home she made me walk downstairs to where she kept an entire bathtub full of this goddamn macaroni salad. Every day at precisely 6:55 p.m. ...
Did you stir the salad yet!
That shriek meant I had five minutes.
I got shivers down my spine just thinking about it.
That basement is cold.
Lesson Seven
She made me use her canoe paddle to stir this mess because it was my fault I had splinters of wood stuck in my throat after she told me to use my canoe paddle!
Lesson Eight
Buy health insurance.
Question:
Do you know how much it costs to have wood removed from your throat?
Answer:
My Truck!
Lesson Nine
She was only with me because I had a truck!
I was busy stirring the salad again! I was mad! I hate stirring the salad!
She comes up to me and hands me some papers.
"Sign this," she demands with her I hate you tone of voice.
That put me in a dilemma because I knew better than to stop stirring the salad when she's looking over my shoulder to make sure I'm doing it right.
So with one hand I stirred and the other I signed.
Lesson Ten
That's why I'm here.
I had to take on a second job teaching you assholes how to golf because I didn't read the damn document.
She ran off with some European man she met on the internet.
"Francisco."
She took everything I had and left me with a bathtub full of goddamn macaroni salad.
Conclusion
I just have to run home and stir the salad for a few minutes. If it goes rancid, I'll starve.
You folks just keep doing what you're doing here.
Good job, or whatever.
I'll be right back.
Act 2
How to Tell If a Post is Meant to be Funny or Not
Good day to you. My name is Mr. Himself and I will be your educator today.
For some reason, even that line was funny to me.
How? Why?
What's so funny?
Allow me to explain by writing a few things. In order for you to be able to grasp some level of understanding, reading will be required. If you cannot read, what the fuck are you doing here?
Anyway. It would be nice if people could respect the 'funny' tag. Those using the 'funny' tag are typically attempting to enter their post into the funny pages. Have a look at a newspaper. Now have a look at the platform. Have another look at the newspaper. Then, look at the platform again. Are you noticing any similarities? No? Oh for fuck sake...
Okay
So, in the newspaper we have many different sections. One of those sections is called the funny pages. It's usually full of jokes and humor. Since people are familiar with this thing called the funny pages, they can be prepared to read jokes and humor in advance. This makes life easier because nobody likes an asshole who suddenly starts laughing at the news story about those people who got drunk and rammed their van into that store that sells dildos. Yes, it's humorous but someone may have been hurt. If someone gets hurt within the funny pages, it's okay to laugh at their misfortune because there's a strong chance that character was a cartoon or just acting and didn't really get hurt. See the difference? No? Goddammit...
Okay!
So! If you are about to read something on the platform, read the tag. If the first tag used is funny, that fucking word will be right at the goddamn top of the post. This is a clear indication that everything you are about to read is not to be taken 100% seriously. Sure, there might be some important information mixed in that could be taken seriously, but the author is using the goddamn funny tag to make it incredibly fucking obvious to anyone who's about the read the goddamn post that what's inside is meant to be humorous.
With that much information already handed to the reader on a silver fucking platter, taking the contents within seriously is the biggest douchebag move anyone can do to the author. Especially when they're finished and they leave a stupid comment that clearly shows how they had no fucking idea they were reading something humorous. How the fuck they can power through something designed to be funny without even realizing it is beyond me, but whatever, that's why they hired me to teach people stuff.
Pro-tip: If the first tag used is 'funny' and you see swear words and assume the author must be angry, you're an asshole! Why? Because! Reasons!
Anyway
Mr. Himself?
Yes?
I have a question.
I can tell. Would you please just ask the goddamn question instead of wasting my time with all of this small talk.
Sorry. You make me feel nervous.
Please! Just grow a spine and get on with it!
Okay. So. I was wondering if it's okay to use the 'funny' tag because for about two seconds my kitty showed up in front of my camera as I was talking about Bitcoin and I laughed.
NO!
That's not okay!
You're mixing news or commentary about a specific topic with something cute, okay! Look at that damn newspaper again! Do you see any talking heads mixed in with the humorous articles, comics or cartoons? No! You don't and there's a reason for that!
What's the reason?
Listen. Do you want to fail this class? I can do that, you know. I can write a big ole red 'F' on your paper and send you packing. Do you want to live in a basement suite under an old lady that has three dogs and seventeen cats who run around all day making it sound like you're living under a murder during a thunderstorm for the rest of your life or do you want to learn!
I want to learn.
Then pay attention!
People can still laugh at your stupid kitty but your show about the things you felt like saying that day because people actually listen to you for some stupid reason is not about kitties or humor. It was an accident that you somehow managed to be funny while boring people to death with your analysis. You should not be using the funny tag unless you want people to think you're one big fucking joke! Get it? Got it? Good!
You can be entertaining and that will probably earn you a larger following because most of these people are so goddamn boring it makes my head spin but please leave the funny pages alone. You'll fit in perfectly fine nestled in to your own section with your own people listening and paying attention to them being wrong more than half of the time.
Now look what you did!
I have no idea where I was going with this because of your damn distractions. I had all kinds of interesting things to say and now I forgot what those were because of you!
Let me see your lunch.
Okay. I'm taking the sandwiches and the juice box, I'm going outside, I'm going sit in my car, smoke a big bowl, get high as fuck, turn on the radio, then eat these sandwiches.
Everyone else is dismissed except you. You're going to stay back and write I am the biggest, stupidest, ugliest piece of shit in the entire class and now I don't have any sandwiches because of it fifty times on the board. Then you can leave a dollar on my desk for using up all my chalk and go play with the friends you don't have.
Have a nice day.
Act 3
Learning How to Do Shit: How I Research What I Want to Write About
Hi there. Welcome to your next lesson. I am Mr. Himself.
Sit down, shut up, pay attention.
Okay
No time for introductions. Let's just get down to brass tacks, shall we? We shall, you don't have a choice.
Step One
So you're an asshole who found this place and decided to become a writer because it says you can get paid to do so.
Well, it's not that easy. You can't just wake up one day and be a writer. You must first have a brain and at least some knowledge of the language you choose to write with. For me, that language is English and if you can't figure that out, I don't know what the fuck to tell you, you're practically screwed, and should probably leave this lesson now.
Step Two
Okay, so you have a brain but you don't know how to use it.
I love Google. That's how I know everything. This is how you use Google as your brain so you can figure out what to write about. Notice the headline up there? "What I want to write about." I'll just throw that mess into this fancy little search bar, like so:
Actual screenshot of Google
Step Three
There are nearly one billion hits but you only need the first one. I clicked it so you don't have to.
Once inside the article, this "professional" writer mentioned six things you'll need to do to be able to write, I guess. They were:
"Relax"
"Come up with a lot of ideas."
"Kill the wrong ideas."
"Ask your muse."
"Second guess yourself."
"Once you've chosen..."
So, that doesn't help. How the fuck did these people ever become writers? Then this thing popped up:
Actual screenshot of bullshit
Step Four
Rage quit!
I was trying to read that!
I SELECTED THAT ARTICLE BECAUSE IT ONLY HAD SIX STEPS AND I THOUGHT THAT WOULD BE MY TICKET TO WRITER'S HEAVEN! I WANTED TO BE FREE AND KNOW HOW TO BE A WRITER WITHIN FIVE MINUTES! I DON'T WANT TO LEARN SIX STEPS JUST TO BE TOLD I NEED TO LEARN TEN MORE STEPS!
One: I fucking hate it!
Two: I fucking hate it!
Three: I fucking hate it!
You can take those three easy steps and shove it up your ass!
Step Five
Listen. If you need to research what to write about and how to write it; you're fucked.
Why do I even bother! Fuck this. I'm outta here. Go teach yourselves. They don't pay me enough to deal with this shit every day. Do you even realize, when I go home, I drink? Yeah! I drink gallon after bloody gallon of the bottom shelf vodka because it's cheap and people tell me I don't stink, even though I can smell it everywhere I go.
You think this is water in my bottle? You're an asshole! It's vodka too! You see that fish over there? It's fake and the bowl is full of vodka!
I can't wait until I can retire!
Class Dismissed!
Act 4
Learning How To Do Shit: Being The Best Writer Means You Must Be Able To Write About Anything
Hi there. Welcome to your next lesson. I am Mr. Himself.
Sit down, shut up, pay attention.
Introduction
Bonus advice:All good articles have an introduction.
Since the headline never seems to be enough for some people to be able to establish the reason why they've read this far into an article, it's always best to write nearly the same thing again but different and slightly longer, then call it an introduction.
Since I'm far too busy and don't like repeating myself, I'd just like to ask you to direct your attention back to the headline and start over. Reading it twice or even three times should be enough for you to be able to understand more of the world around you and why you made the decision to be here today.
Please note:If you've been spending the past thirty minutes or more reading the headline and introduction continuously; I'll have to ask you to please stop reading the paragraph above. That should put an end to the seemingly infinite loop you've been experiencing. It's good that you're able to follow directions so well but you should know those skills will only get you so far in life and the fact you've been spending so much time locked within some sort of a death spiral lately proves that.
Congratulations!
You made it this far.
They say, "Being able to write about anything will open many doors for you as a professional writer."
Important:I heard that once and thought it sounded smart. I don't really know who said it or why.
So, knowing that now makes writing seem much easier on the surface; but what exactly is anything?
That's a question even I, as someone who is much smarter than you, could not answer.
I Was Forced to Look It Up
Bonus advice:Always do your research.
*Actual screenshot of anything. I'm no expert but I think it looks like a good time to sell.
Now,
Let me break it down for you.
Like most of you sitting at home right now, I too noticed the word 'pie'.
It is unfortunate these people in charge of the entire world's knowledge database insist on using subliminal messages and product placement advertising techniques in order to fund their ulterior motives.
The whole reason why I ran out of time today and wasn't able to complete a proper introduction was because within a matter of minutes after seeing the word 'pie', I had to put my work down, get in the car, sit in traffic, look for pie, and then buy the pie. To add insult to injury; the moment it came time to pay for the pie, I realized I forgot my bank card and had to come all the way home, then go all the way back to the store. Then, just to kick me while I was already down; I got this pie home, the label says, "Apple Pie," I cut into it; it's not apple, it's cherry, and I don't like cherry pie!
So!
Pie in hand, I get back in the car!
Now I got the pedal to the metal and I'm flying down the freeway! Ten miles down the road, sirens! I pull over and I'm dinged with nearly ten thousand dollars worth of fines for:
Open liquor(I told you all last time; I hate this job, that's why I drink, it's nothing new).
Missing mirrors on both sides and the middle.
Failing to use my indicator as I changed lanes while this asshole was pulling me over.
Noise violation(the horn stays on until I pull the key out, it's been like that for years, that's why the music was so loud).
Possession of a controlled substance(I have a prescription, I forgot to bring it with me, those pills were in a plastic bag because that's how I keep them dry).
Kidnapping(I still don't know who that was in the back seat but I think they were trying to steal my car).
Obstruction(He went to cuff me, there was a wasp buzzing around my head, I didn't want to get stung so I ran).
Assaulting a police officer(I was aiming for the wasp, he headbutts my fist, I didn't even see it coming, total cheap shot, blames me).
Destruction of property(It was hot in the back of the cop car, I couldn't breathe, thought I was going to die so I kicked the window out).
Urinating in public spaces(I was scared).
Indecent exposure.
Plus I had a warrant for my arrest.
I Made Bail
They let me out this morning.
I took the bus to the end of the line, walked three miles, arrived at the impound lot; they were closed. I took my shirt off, draped it over the razor wire, hopped the fence, found my car, grabbed the pie.
So now I'm walking home with no shirt on when some guy named Charles stops and offers me a ride. I get in, we're cruising along, he asks me, "How much?" I immediately told him about five dollars would be fair and he agreed. I thought to myself how can this day get any better because I only paid $2.50 for that pie and here I am already doubling my money. Charles pulls off the road, parks behind a building, hands me a fiver and pulls down his pants. I ignored his penis, tried handing him the pie, he refused. This all led to some confusion and an incredibly awkward silence, I asked if I could turn the radio on, he tells me to get out, I start walking.
I can see the store in the distance.
Pie in hand.
I finally get to the door, I enter the building, I head straight to the customer service desk with my pie.
I said, "Hi there, it's been a long day, this is a cherry pie, I wanted an apple pie, I'd like my money back."
She didn't even look me in the eye, treated me like a piece of meat, stared at my chest the entire time and said, "I can't serve you, sir. You're not wearing a shirt." I said, "That's discrimination," she said, "No, it's store policy," I said, "So it's store policy to discriminate," and she picked up the phone to call a manager.
I decided to leave, with my pie, because I had had enough. I got outside, some guy asked me if I had any spare change, I offered him the five dollars Charles gave me in exchange for his shirt and he agreed.
I put the shirt on, went back inside with my pie, stood in line, finally it's my turn and I say, "Hi there, it's me again, it's been an even longer day, this is a cherry pie, I wanted an apple pie, I'd like my money back." She then asked to see the receipt.
I didn't have the receipt.
She told me she can't help me without seeing a receipt.
So I got angry, made a big scene and demanded to talk to the manager.
The manager finally shows up, he's got mustard on his shirt, he asks, "What's the problem," I asked, "Do you recognize this pie," he says, "Yes, that's our pie," I said, "This is a cherry pie, I wanted an apple pie, I'd like my money back." He looks at the pie, then looks at me, then asks to see the receipt, I told him I don't have a receipt, he tells me I don't need to shout. That only made me more angry, he said there's nothing they can do for me, I said there has to be something, he said there's nothing, I said that's bullshit, he asked if I'd like to file a complaint and I said yes.
So then I had go stand at the back of this other line and wait another good ten minutes just so I could talk to the same lady who couldn't do a goddamn thing for me in the first place. I finally get there, she has the nerve to ask me how she can help today after witnessing everything that just happened ten minutes before, I said I'd like to file a complaint, she said, "Okay, just one minute please," I said, "Make it snappy," she rolled her eyes.
She asked for my name; I gave her my name. She asked for my birthday; I gave her my birthday. She asked for my address; I gave her my address. She asked for my occupation; I told her, "Birthday clown," pulled the pie out of the box and threw it in her face.
And that's why you didn't learn about anything today.
Class dismissed.
Act 5
I Just Want to Cut You with My Chainsaw
Being nice is hard with a full tank of gas and no trees around.
"As I eat my cereal, I can only think about one thing."
Bring bring bring!
(That was a chainsaw sound effect.)
Hello and welcome to Anger Management class!
A free course on how to prevent injuring those around you!
I am Mr. Himself and I teach things when regular teachers call in sick with the shits or a hangover on a Friday morning.
The other day while I was waiting for some asshole to finish preparing my coffee, I was pushed. This angered me so I turned around and said, "What the fuck, man!"
There was nobody there. Then I looked down and that's when I realized I said the f-word to a four year old girl dressed up like a little flower.
Everyone was staring at me. I stared back; said nothing. Turned around; waited for my coffee some more like a gentleman.
If it wasn't for my training,
I probably would have smashed that establishment into smithereens and lit the rest on fire.
The kid's mom got all up in my face and I didn't even break a sweat.
If this was five years ago, I would be busy telling these "parents" to keep their wild little demons on leashes then offer a free subscription to homemade Ritalin from a guy I met on the dark web.
How was I supposed to know some moms are cops?
It was Anger Management class, or jail.
Obviously, you're here because you don't want to go to jail either and since I lied on my resume, I guess I'm here to teach you how!
Being qualified to tell people how to act takes great responsibility. One must walk the walk. Merely talking the talk will only get you so far in life.
Since you're all assholes in need of my help, I think it would be best to start with a demonstration.
For some, the sound of my voice is all it takes for you to become triggered. For others, it's my outdated hipster mustache.
You need to know that it's not the sound I'm making or the way I look that is "wrong" with this world today. Your ears and eyes and simply broken. It's your fault. Deal with it.
For only ten dollars
I'll sell you my video.
Mr. Himself?
Yes?
I thought you said this was a free course!
Calm down!
Do you want to fail!
No.
Then sit down and shut the fuck up. I'm the teacher! You're the asshole who needs my help! Everyone seems to know this except for you. Why! Are you stupid? Did someone put a cloud where your brain should be? Smoke too much dope? What's your problem!
You're not supposed to talk to me like that!
Says who!
Do you want to get up here and teach this class?
Do you think you can do a better job than me!
Go sit in the hallway and think about what you've done!
No!
Bring bring bring!
Oh my god he has a knife!
That's not a knife! It's a cha-cha-cha... CHAINSAW!
You see how I handled that, class?
One must simply cut the anger out of their lives.
If you can't do it yourself, I'm here to help. Everyone on the planet has a small part of their brain that makes them do stupid things and I know how to fix it.
So buy my video!
Any questions?
Act 6
How To Write an Organically Trending and Popular Post
Good day to you, the reader of this. My name is Mr. Himself and I'll be filling in for whoever called in sick today.
So you want to be successful?
We All Want a Taste
Because it smells so damn good.
When I was just a young cart pusher over at the local box store, I had dreams of someday becoming Lead Cart Pusher.
Not everyone has what it takes to be an LCP, but unfortunately, everyone thinks they do because the job looks so damn easy.
Sure, all you do is stand there and tell some spaced out kid with headphones glued onto his zits to grab these carts while letting that other dumbass high school dropout know he needs to go grab those carts and yeah sometimes you have to say, "I said a fifteen minute break one half hour ago! Where the hell were you! Go stop that bottle picker from stealing our bread and butter; now!"
"I don't care if he has a knife!"
"Do you value your job here at the store or not!"
"You'll never be an LCP with that attitude!"
Whoa! Sorry about that, students. I guess I started to have flashbacks or something.
That job really messed me up and it doesn't help when those little voices start saying it was easy.
Where were we?
Why am I here today? What is this class?
How To Write an Organically Trending and Popular Post
Another fucking Steemit course? Are you serious?
Alright
I got this.
How to do whatever the fuck you came here to learn today:
Think of something to write about.
Write what you thought about.
Fix your fuck ups.
Press the post button.
Keep doing that every fucking day for two years or more.
Maybe you'll do good, maybe you won't.
Do you want me to teach you how to write, too?
Mr. Himself?
Yes?
I spent my rent money on this course. Are you planning on teaching anything?
Oh!You want to learn something, do you!
Well I'll have you know I took this job on short notice. Those assholes called me up at three in goddamn morning, while I was drunk out my mind, listening to ACDC, and crying about how I got so damn old!
I woke up ten minutes ago and didn't even know what day it was! This place is lucky I live in the basement!
If you want to learn something, we'll watch this film about Woodchucks. Get out your notepads!
There!
Are you happy! Feeling smart?
Now you can leave here and talk about woodchucks all goddamn day!
You're welcome!
Class dismissed.
Act 7
Doing the Things I Want To Do and Why I Want To Do Them: A Comprehensive Guide Towards Achieving Nothingness Combined With An Interesting Title That Looks Like It Was Written By A Professional Title Maker
The world around me is busy
you see.
Zip zip zip zip zip goes the everyone, except me; I just like to watch.
Anyway
Good day to you. My name is Mr. Himself. I'll be your guide.
Have you ever read a blog post about peanut butter toast?
Me either!
So let's see what we got here:
Who takes a toaster on a train with them?
Why is this about Nutella? I asked for a goddamn blog post about peanut butter toast.
Who's in charge around here?
Hmm?
What does this button do?
Some kind of magic mystery box popped up like an instance of writer's block during a simile.
Oh. So now you want to ask me the questions.
You bastards messed with the wrong guy this time!
You're welcome!
That's right!
I'm a team player.
On my day off from doing nothing, I worked for Google. It says right there, "I helped improve Google for everyone!"
Time to keep on scrolling though. I need to find out more about this goddamn blog post about peanut butter toast so I can do my research and write my own goddamn blog post about peanut butter toast.
Let's see what we have:
What in the actual fuck is going on here?
I don't want to click but I have to click. This is for science.
It's time to take a shot in the dark. Blog post research isn't supposed to take this long.
Well I don't have any fucking clue either so I'm going to hit page 9 and see what happens...
Page nine:
Looks like Chelsea's been talking smack again; those vegans are full of shit for some strange reason; someone finally stopped puking, so that's good; more of this goddamn Nutella bullshit! I thought I told these people to cut the shit already!
"Feeling lost?"
"How to start over when things fall apart."
I'd say this goddamn blog post about peanut butter toast fell apart a long time ago. I'll click that one.
Okay, I was sent here, first thing I see is some lady taking a shot of Dayquil...
I can't do this anymore!
Today's goddamn blog post about peanut butter toast has been cancelled.
Sorry for the inconvenience.
Act 8
Writing a Good Title for Your Posts and Other Things: It's Important To Always Write Short Titles and Not Long Titles Because People Like Short Titles More and I'm An Expert So Now I'll Tell You Why
Good afternoon or whatever the fuck time it is where you live.
My name is Mr. Himself and I'll be the guy teaching you shit today.
You're Entitled to Write Better Titles
And I should know because I've been doing this for years.
Unfortunately I didn't come to class prepared today because the missus had gas and nearly killed me in my sleep.
I woke up gagging and couldn't figure out what the hell that smell was so I started looking around the bedroom for that cat we haven't seen in two weeks thinking maybe it's dead under the bed or something.
Ended up finding a bottle of whiskey and this here swiggy-poo is all I got left.
Ahhhh.
Been drinking all day.
Drove to work. I don't give a fuck.
So anyway it's probably a good time to admit I don't even know why I'm here.
Stop looking at me like that.
I know my life is a mess and I don't need your eyes to be reminding me.
You try living with that woman!
And pay the mortgage while you're at it because I'm fucking broke.
Honey! I know what I can do! Look at this ad on the internet! All I have to do is purchase a franchise, they'll send me the products every month and I just have to go door to door selling them! I can finally have my own office in the basement!
Oh my fucking god. Forty thousand dollars and three lawsuits later...
Today happens!
"It's 8 o'clock! Time to put on your cream!"
She says it's going to get rid of the cracks on my feet but I didn't have cracks on my feet until she started putting this goddamn cream shit on my feet.
I don't even feel like a man anymore!
You see this fanny pack I'm wearing?
She doesn't let me take it off.
I'll strip it off before bed, wake up in the middle of the night to scratch my nuts and what the hell. The fanny pack fairy strikes again! She somehow wrapped the goddamn fanny pack around my waist as I slept. Never admits to it either! She tries to make me think I'm losing my mind.
And now I am losing my mind!
She snuck up on me in shower the other day!
Scared the bejesus outta me!
Then she snaps this picture of my flaccid penis:
and "accidentally" sends it to all of our friends on social media...
The entire faculty here knows I have crotch crickets now!
They spray Lysol on everything I touch!
I can't do this anymore.
If you want to learn about titles, go read a fucking book.
Class dismissed.
Act 9
How To Make A Creative Post More Creative Than The Most
Hello and — yeah. Welcome to my goddamn post.
My name is Mr. Himself
and I'll be your substitute art teacher while Mr. Scott is off getting his penis enlarged.
First Thing's First
I need to tell you something important.
I lied in my job interview.
The truth is:I'm not supposed to be within 500 feet of anyone who needs to learn something.
I quit drinking three days ago though; I think I'm ready.
I didn't know those desks were so flammable and when they called me up to tell me Mrs. Legspread or whatever the hell her name was got knocked up again and I'd have to be teaching science for a few months, I had no way of knowing the pot still we engineered to make the whiskey would explode like that.
So anyway, after the incident, I still needed a way to make ends meet and since they legalized weed it's been kind of hard to make money in the mall parking lot like I used to. I ended up stumbling across an online advertisement while browsing through some porn videos and that led me to a fake teacher who went by the alias, "Jerry," and he was busy selling courses on how to become a fake teacher just like him. He showed me all this money he made and I was all like here take my money within minutes.
After three years of living in Kazakhstan while the old me was busy faking my death, I finally graduated and received some fake credentials mailed to me in a box along with a cool little bonus video about "How To Take Care of Yourself" that I've yet to watch.
I don't even know what some of this stuff means but it sure looks good on paper and I really like my new passport.
Mr. Himself?
Yes?
Does this mean you're a criminal?
Not anymore.
Moving along.
So you want to be creative?
Step one:You gotta know how to bullshit.
Everything I told you just now,was bullshit.
You were all looking at me like oh my god that is so interesting and I probably could have kept on going for days.
The truth is: I drink too much and can't hold down a job, so I lied to those people, said I quit drinking, and they're so fucking gullible they decided to give me my fourth second chance.
But that's not very interesting, now is it?
No!
It's pathetic!
But if you believe in your own bullshit enough, you can do anything!
When it comes to being creative and telling a story, you gotta know how to stretch the truth a little bit.
It's not a lie when you're being paid to make up some bullshit!
That's your job now!
Everyone in this business is full of shit!
And now you can, too!
Step two:Believe in yourself even when you don't believe in yourself.
Observe:
"Look at this wonderful picture of horses I made!"
Wonderful Horses
I know that is a terrible picture of horses but if I do not believe in myself, then who will?
Never title your creative posts: I'm A Fucking Amateur Who Doesn't Know Shit
You must always own your work. Say it is awesome! Do not say: I'm not too proud of this. I probably shouldn't even be doing this. I suck.
If you've screwed up, say: No! That's not a screw up! I did it that way on purpose for I am an artiste and I live by my own rules!
People will bow down to you and your fervor.
Combine step one and step two and dance your way to being the most creative and respected human alive on this planet!
Or lay down in a puddle of your own piss and cry. I don't care. There are no silly grades in these courses. I make my money whether you learn something or not.
Now.Was I bullshitting or telling the truth?
Ah ha!
You see how good I am!
You have no idea what just hit you!
I am the master!
And you are the student.
The little shit who doesn't know anything!
Who's in charge here!
Huh! Huh!
Mr. Himself?
You sit your ass down and shut up your mouth!
Now where were we?
Step three...
Mr. Himself? I really need to go the bathroom.
Good job!
Did everyone else see that perfect example of step one?
You are one fast learner there but you can't fool me! You just want to go wander the halls and maybe pull out your phone so you can tell your mommy you want spaghetti for supper tonight.
Now where was I. Seemed to have lost my page here...
What the hell is that smell?
Did you just shit yourself?
Come up here and show the class!
Now this is why I became a teacher!
You bullshitted, you believed in yourself — and now look!
It takes some actors years to be able to cry on command and you're already shitting your pants after one lesson!
Everyone give this kid a round of applause!
Okay well,
it looks like we're out of time here for today.
Sit down! I didn't say you could leave yet!
You got homework tonight! I want to see thirty jars full of shit on my desk in the morning before I get here and some bullshit story about how you made it! 500 words minimum!
Class dismissed!
Act 10
Learning How To Do Shit: How To Make Sense of a World Full of Nonsense
Good afternoon or whatever and welcome to the class that will change your life forever.
My name is Mr. Himself.
I'll be filling in today for Mrs. Alottapuss who is visiting the doctor to see if it's herpes or not.
I don't know if I was supposed to tell you, but that's what the text said.
Even I didn't want to know that.
Another day, ruined.
It's probably for the best though and that's why I'm wearing these rubber gloves. I'm afraid to touch anything of hers. This pen.Do you know where this pen has been? Have you seen her sucking on it? Should I burn the damn thing?
What about all these books here? Is every page just a breeding ground for herpes? Is she trying to raise herpes like livestock?
Does she spit when she talks? Are all of you students in the front row getting splattered with herpes every day and don't even know it?
I don't get hazard pay.
You people sit still. I'll be right back!
Twenty minutes later...
Sorry I took so long!
I want everyone to find a partner. Once you do that, come to the front and grab one of these rolls of plastic wrap I borrowed from your cafeteria. One of you holds the roll, the other grabs the end with their teeth and starts spinning in circles until there's no skin showing. When you're all wrapped up, your partner will poke a few holes where your nose and eyes are with the scissors provided, then you can find your seat. The original wrap holders will pair up, do it all over again, and we'll keep doing this until there's only one student remaining. The last one loses and has to get the fuck out because I don't know what kind of critters you have crawling all over your skin.
Go!
Twenty minutes later...
Okay class!
Good job!
Wasn't that fun!
Now I feel safe.
Now I can do what I was born to do and be the best substitute teacher in the history of part-time jobs!
Tim! Why are you still standing there? You lose. Vamoose! Go! You're unclean!
Today's Lesson:
How To Make Sense of a World Full of Nonsense
What the hell does that even mean?
Is your teacher drunk?
Knock! Knock! Knock! Pardon me, students. There's someone at the door.
Oh! Hello Principal Kunty! What brings you here today?
Young Timothy is crying in my office right now. He said nobody wants him because he has herpes. Have you noticed any strange behavior? Have his classmates been bullying him again?
No. These students have been nothing but a joy to work with and I look forward to coming back to your fine establishment again in the future. I really like it here.
Well I'd like to come in and talk to the students...
Are you sure that's necessary I mean, you're a busy guy, I'm sure I can handle it...
It's no problem. These anti-bullying lectures only take a few minutes and...Oh my god what's going on in here!
Is there a problem, Sir?
Why are these children covered in plastic!
For my protection, Sir.
Your protection?!Is that one even breathing! Why did you do this!
I didn't do it. They did it to each other. It was a game. Timothy lost and he's just being a poor-sport. Of course they're breathing. Can't you see the holes?
Get that plastic wrap off of the students, now!
And expose myself to the dangers of herpes! Are you prepared to go to court, Sir? I can't work in these conditions!
Herpes? Do you even know what herpes is? Who told you these kids have herpes?
Your school secretary sent me a text last night and asked if my services were available. I said yes of course because I really love teaching and then I asked for how long. I didn't get a text back until three in the morning. It said something about doctors, herpes, maybe three days. Upon arrival, I could see the herpes crawling all over everything so I wanted to make sure the students were safe.
Mrs. Alottapuss is on bereavement leave. Her husband and three of his friends were killed in a boating accident. Let me see the message you received.
Sure! Look. See! It says right there, "Herpes."
Who's Sarah?
That's my ex-girlfriend. Why?
Sarah said, "You have three days to get here. Going to the doctor. I think it's herpes."
Sarah has herpes?
No. You probably have herpes! Get this plastic wrap off of these kids, and get out of my school.I never want to see you again!
This is discrimination! This is no way to treat someone who's dying! I am a sick man here!
I can see that! Get out!
You can see the herpes, too?
Get out!
But I want to be a teacher!
You'll never teach in this town again!
You said that the last time!
Go!
Fine!
I'll just go have herpes someplace else!
A place that actually cares about people like me.
I'm calling the cops!
Act 11
How To Be a Good Blogger: 2020 Edition
Good afternoon or whatever the fuck time it is where you are.
My name is Mr. Himself.
I'm your substitute teacher today because everyone quit their fucking jobs.
Welcome.
We shall begin.
Soon.
...
I seem to have misplaced my notes.
I swear I tucked them under my balls before I left the house today.
...
...
...
I know they're around here some place just, bear with me here.
...
...
Goddammit.
Jesus fuck I think they went right up my ass again.
I was bouncing all the way here trying to dodge all those potholes on your streets. I could feel something slithering on up there. Thought it was my lighter. It sure felt like a lighter.
You. What's your name?
Ned.
Ned? What the fuck kind of name is, Ned?
It means:
That's interesting.
Could you come up to the front of the class please.
Well come on now. Quit dilly-dallying. We don't have all day!
Closer. Closer.Stop!
So, Ned. Do you have a girlfriend?
Yeah, kinda.
Good.
I can trust you then. I'm going to spread my ass cheeks, and I need you to look inside.
Yes Sir!
Do you see anything?
I think I can see my future.
Everyone: Ha ha ha ha ha ha chuckle chuckle chuckle laughter!
Silence in my classroom!
Ned! This is no time for jokes. Now, did you come here to learn or am I just wasting my life!
I came to learn, Sir.
That's what I like to hear. Okay. Let's try this again.
Do you see anything?
Open wider, Sir.
Like that?
A little bit more, please.
I can't! That's as far as I can go. Dammit! Just reach inside and start feeling around.
Okay!
Do you feel anything, Ned. Anything at all?
Yes!
Well. What are you waiting for? Pull it out!
It's stuck. I can't.
Pull, Ned! Pull!
I'm trying!
Harder, Ned!
Pull!
arrrrgh!
Harder!
ahhhh! arrgh!
Come on Ned! You can do it!
Just a little bit more!
Arrgh! Coming!
What?!?!?!?!
I said it's coming!
I got it!
It's a lighter!
A lighter?
Yes! A big black Bic lighter. See!
Huh. A black one? That's interesting. I tore my house apart looking for that, last week.
Click click.Holy shit it still works!
My notes though. Where, in the actual fuck, did my notes go!
Is there anything else up there, Ned? Anything at all?
It's as clean as a whistle, Sir!
Thanks for the help. Please take your seat.
Ladies and gentleman, I apologize. I realize you've paid top dollar for this seminar but without those notes, I don't even know why I'm here.
Wait a minute...
Oh my god they were right here on the desk the whole time!
That concludes your crash course on nearly everything Mr. Himself. You'll be seeing this character again, as he truly is one of my favorite creations and can be quite flexible.
Are there any other authors on Hive I'm unaware of writing this kind of material? If so, let yourself be known. As much as I enjoy writing this stuff, I also enjoy reading other humorists and what they come up with.
Anyway. That's that. I really hope you folks enjoyed this.
Have a nice day.
Credits:
Youtube videos linked to sources.
All art and images seen here were produced digitally, by me.
All content within this blog is 100% organic ACTUAL CONTENT and contains no paid vote additives!
